The Other Side of Gryffindor
by accioamber
Summary: Harry's pressures have built up and he has finally found a release...will people who care about him try to stop it and will they succeed? Contains self harm. Chapter titles from Sing by MCR.
1. Sing it from the heart

**A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, nope nope.**

**I might take this down if it sucks. It just popped into my head a few moments ago and since it's 2:30am, I ran with it. Contains mental health issues, self-injury, if you will be offended, please don't read. I don't aim to offend. This might be completely OOC but I don't care lol, this was just an idea. (PS It takes place in the beginning of Sixth Year)**

The pressure was getting to be too much, even for him. He was strangely used to unyielding amounts of it, to never or rarely feeling calm or relaxed, to worrying about his life, to worrying if he had much time left to live it. But it had become too much.

He hated his life. He hated being 'The Chosen One'. He wanted to be normal and to have the lack of worries that most of the other students at Hogwarts had. He wanted to be excited about upcoming Hogsmeade trips, to stay up too late playing wizard chess with Ron and only worry about exams and homework. He had the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

This didn't feel sudden, either. It felt like something that had been building for a long time. Over the summer, before he'd gone to stay at the Burrow, he had been alone with his thoughts. The Dursleys left him to his own devices, ignoring his very existence, which left him with nothing but his mind to keep him occupied. He sank, lower and lower, until nothing mattered anymore. He would stare out at the dark night sky for hours, wishing he was where Sirius was, and his parents. His desk was swimming with old copies of the Daily Prophet and unanswered, ignored letters from his friends. Hermione had written more than Ron, becoming more insistent as Harry didn't answer.

Three nights before Dumbledore came to collect him from the home of his aunt and uncle, he had been turning the same thought over and over in his head: his death. He pictured his aunt, uncle and cousin perhaps finally wondering where he was after not seeing him for a few days; of Dumbledore arriving at the door for him, only to come upstairs and find his body. These thoughts kept clawing at his brain, and on a whim he picked up the latest of Hermione's letters. _'Please answer me, Harry. I'm so worried about you. You know you'll be with all of us as soon as possible; you can't be angry that it's been a few weeks. We want you with us-what do you want?' _

Without thinking he had scrawled a few sentences on a piece of parchment.

_What do I want, Hermione?_

_I want to die. _

Then he thought of listing all the things he had learned that summer-that if your old Rememberall broke into a thousand pieces, running the sharpest piece against your skin felt good. That the sight of blood made things calm down a little. That he was too weak to go through with his plans, too weak to leave this earth.

But then Dumbledore had come and taken him to the Burrow and for a little while, things had been a bit better. Not perfect, by any means, and his depression and horrible thoughts still persisted. They were quieter, though, and not all-consuming. Surprisingly, returning to Hogwarts had not made things improve further, he was back in the place he'd been that summer. He didn't know why, and he didn't know how, but there he was again. He hadn't cut in a month, since he came to stay at the Burrows. He had avoided it since returning to Hogwarts, as well.. But his arm itched, and he wanted these thoughts to go away. He knew how to do that.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Hermione asked. Harry shook himself out of his thoughts; the three of them were sitting in the common room doing their homework. Ron was muttering to himself as he tried to complete an essay for Snape; he kept crossing things out and swearing under his breath, occasionally flipping furiously through his textbook. Hermione, apparently, had been watching Harry, who was supposed to be doing the same essay for Snape but instead had been staring into space with a weird expression on his face.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine, Hermione." Harry muttered, slamming shut his book and throwing his papers on top of it. "I just can't do this right now."

Ron looked up, setting his own quill down. "You sure you're all right, mate?"

"Harry, you've been awfully quiet lately. I'm worried about you." Hermione said seriously, walking over to him.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione, okay? I'm going to bed."

"Don't shut us out...please." She said quietly.

"I'm not shutting you out, I just want to go to bed. I don't want to talk, I don't want to do anything except sleep. Okay? Do you think you can handle that for one night?" Harry said coldly, gathering up his books and leaving behind his best friends who had no idea what was going on.

He paced around his dormitory for a few moments, which was thankfully empty. All the things that were upsetting him kept bouncing around in his head-Sirius' death was at the front, and the next was Dumbledore's words about the prophecy. It had been a few months, but he couldn't get them out of his mind. He just kept replaying them over and over, picking them apart in his mind's eye, and the anger and stress inside of him kept mounting. After 16 years, his life had gotten to be a little much.

He heard several sets of steps coming up the stairs to the dormitory, and Harry threw himself into his bed and drew the curtains. He pretended to be asleep as he heard Seamus, Dean and Neville getting ready for bed. A bit later, after the other three were in bed, Ron came up. Harry had his eyes closed, but he could feel Ron standing next to his bed, almost as if he was contemplating saying something, but he turned away and quietly settled into his own bed.

After a little while, Harry fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning. Sirius' face swam in front of him, repeatedly, and suddenly he bolted up in bed.

Harry grabbed his watch. It was 1am, and he was suddenly wide awake. He could hardly hear anything over the blood rushing through his ears, and he wanted it to stop. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and tiptoed to his trunk at the end. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and a few other things, jamming them in his pockets; then he picked up his wand, tossed the cloak over his body, and disappeared down the steps.

He found himself wandering the corridors, not caring if he made too much noise, not caring if Filch or anyone else would hear him. The teachers were taking turns keeping an eye on things at night, what with what had happened at the end of last term. Harry just kept walking, his mind still running.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the middle of the second floor corridor. He sank to the floor, keeping the invisibility cloak tightly pulled over him. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out an old knife.

He'd used it many times in Potions, most recently the day before, and he'd given it a clean, thorough scrubbing. The knife's blade glinted, reflecting the light from the torches on the walls. It looked menacing, it looked harsh, it looked angry. He turned it over in his hands, looking at it, fascinated by it. Then, he put it to his wrist.

He took a deep, sharp breath. He was not thinking about what he was doing; he was not thinking about any kind of repercussions it might have. He was doing something impulsive, instead of analyzing it over and over with his friends. This was entirely his decision, and even though he felt slightly insane, his head felt clearer than it had in the few weeks it had been since he'd cut.

He heard footsteps. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape rounding the corner, clearly doing his turn of guard duty. He was walking down the corridor, taking slow even steps, keeping his lit wand out in front of him. Harry wasn't paying attention to him though, and as the man got unknowingly closer, Harry pushed hard on the knife and dragged.

His skin was on fire, the deep wound was bleeding angrily, and there was plenty of pain. But Harry didn't feel any of that at first. He felt a deep rush, an emptying, a release as the cut bled. Quickly, he made another one right below it, and he felt the same rush. It felt wonderful, although it had started to hurt just a bit. He didn't care.

Snape stopped as he saw, out of nowhere, a knife with blood on it drop ten feet in front of him, as if it had been casually tossed aside. His every nerve on the alert, he got closer, and closer. He bit his lip and reached his wand out. The tip of it touched something solid, and with a slight twitch, Snape cast Harry's invisibility cloak aside. He found Harry Potter sitting at his feet, holding his wrist.

"Potter! Do you mind telling me what exactly you are doing out of bed? Fifty points from Gryffindor! And what are you holding-," Snape said, grabbing Harry's hand away from his wrist and revealing the two deep cuts. "What the hell happened, Potter?"

Snape's eyes lit on the knife that was lying on the ground, and back at Potter. The boy wasn't acting like he'd been attacked; the cuts were on his wrist, in two straight, horizontal lines, and with a closer look he noticed they were on top of some old, faded scars; he'd been hiding under the invisibility cloak, and if the knife hadn't been dropped, no one would have known he was there.

"Potter?" Snape said quietly, waiting for the boy to look up at him. Eventually he did, and Snape asked, "Did you...do this to yourself?"

Harry didn't answer. He should have stayed in bed, he shoud have done this in his dormitory, or the common room which was definitely deserted by now. Why did he have to go out and do this? Now everyone would find out.

"Answer me, Potter!" Snape said angrily. He realized he felt bad for the boy, and that was irritating him. He didn't want to feel anything towards him, least of all pity and concern.

Harry glared up at Snape with the same loathing. "Yes! Okay? Yes, I did it. Now just leave me alone, and we can pretend this never happened." Harry got to his feet and grabbed his invisibility cloak and the discarded knife from the ground; just as he turned however, he felt his feet lock and he couldn't move. Snape had apparently jinxed him.

"You're not going anywhere," Snape said and grabbed the knife and the cloak from Harry's hands. "I'll be right back."

"Let me go!" Harry yelled, trying in vain to run down the hallway. Snape returned a few moments later with Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey in tow.

"Professor Dumbledore! Tell him to let me go, please!" Harry yelled.

"Hush, Harry." Dumbledore said, gently taking his right wrist and surveying the damage. "If you promise not to go anywhere."

"I promise," Harry murmured in a surly voice.

"Severus, if you please."

With a sigh, Snape lifted his wand and feeling came back to Harry's legs. He sighed and looked at Professor Dumbledore. Blue eyes met green, and Harry immediately saw the last thing he wanted reflected in the blue: pity. Without a second thought, Harry took off, surprising everyone, running as fast as he could through the corridor.

He heard Dumbledore calling out jinxes, things to stop Harry from running away, but he was faster and rounded a corner. With a start, he realized Dumbledore had apparated in front of Harry, even though you weren't supposed to be able to in Hogwarts. Harry just ran past him. It wasn't in his nature to disobey the headmaster when it wasn't something important or life threatening, but Harry wanted out-out of this moment, his skin, everything.

A/N: Hope it doesn't suck...might be working on another chap.


	2. Sing it till you're nuts

**A/N: Still don't own HP. ;] **

**SPOILERS for Deathly Hallows pt 2/the book...just throwing that out there...**

Harry ran past Dumbledore for a second time and down a corridor. Three or four turns later and he found himself alone, down a corridor that he wasn't sure he'd been down before, or at least one he didn't frequent. It was quiet, and he was alone. He wished he had thought to grab his invisibility cloak from Snape before taking off, but it didn't matter.

He needed somewhere to hide, and quick. The cuts on his wrist were really starting to hurt now and probably needed tending to. He couldn't hide forever; in fact, he probably couldn't hide for long at all. But he could at least have a few more moments before he had to listen to it all. They'd probably be wondering how he had kept this a secret; why he was feeling this way; how they didn't notice.

Harry wandered quietly down the small corridor, trying the doors of the classrooms as he went. They were all locked. He swore under his breath as the third one refused to open. "Alohomora!" He tried, but still, nothing. He walked up to the fourth door and turned the knob. His heart leaped and he went inside the empty classroom.

There was nothing there, and he sank to the floor and hung his head. Not only was his wrist burning with pain, but his eyes were starting to droop. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Gryffindor Tower asleep, the whole world oblivious to this little problem of his. He kept running over the mistakes he had made in his head until everything ran together into a blur. He was falling asleep, the room around him going dark as he slumped to the floor.

Harry awoke a short time later to Dumbledore and Snape holding him down as Madam Pomfrey traced her wand lightly over the wounds. She was muttering a spell under her breath, and before he knew it, the cuts had sealed themselves and weren't bleeding anymore. "These'll need to be bandaged," Madam Pomfrey said. Harry looked up at Dumbledore.

"How did you find me?" He asked quietly, but knew it was a dumb question, and most likely one that wouldn't receive an answer. A sigh from Snape's direction confirmed what Harry was thinking.

"You gave us a scare, Harry. Madam Pomfrey thinks it's best if you stay in the hospital wing for tonight and both I and Professor Snape agree." Dumbledore waited, perhaps expecting Harry to protest, to fight or even to run away again, but Harry just looked up yet again into his blue eyes.

"I'm really tired." He said quietly, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing." He helped Harry to his feet and steered him in the right direction. Harry shuffled along between the two professors. Dumbledore was standing next to him, clearly on alert to make sure he wouldn't run away again, while Snape had his hand firmly planted on his shoulder, almost to the point of hurting him. It didn't matter though, at least it was keeping him awake and it reminded him fiercely that nothing would ever be the same again.

A few moments later, he was lead to a bed near the end of the hospital wing. He fell quickly into a dreamless sleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. After she had made sure Harry was asleep, Madame Pomfrey went to work gently bandaging the closed cuts, and as soon as she was done she faced Dumbledore and Snape. "I'll probably put some essence of dittany on them tomorrow and then he should be good as new."

"His cuts will be healed but I hardly think we shall stamp him 'good as new'. Thank you, Poppy." Dumbledore said kindly, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Come, Severus." The two men left the hospital wing and started to walk towards their mutual living quarters.

"What do you think is wrong with Potter?" Snape asked, in a strange voice between demeaning and concern.

"He's under an enormous amount of pressure, Severus. I admit, I've worried about Harry and how he handles all of this at such a young age, but I never thought...I always assumed his friends helped him...foolish of me." Dumbledore said.

"It's not as if he hasn't been under pressure his entire life, why now?"

"I have not had a chance to speak to Harry, which I plan on doing tomorrow if he's up to it, but I would imagine that things feel more...final now. That and I can tell he is still extremely upset about losing Sirius." Snape's face changed to a scowl and Dumbledore said, "Severus, I know you two had your differences but he was a very important part of Harry's life."

The two men stopped at the corner of where they had to part ways. "Thank you for helping Harry tonight, Severus. Good evening." Dumbledore turned and left.

As soon as Dumbledore was a safe distance away, Snape turned and started walking back the way they had come. As he walked briskly down the corridors, back towards the hospital wing, he finally allowed himself to let his guard down and let his thoughts come flooding out, all of the things he had shoved aside from the moment he'd found Harry, bleeding in the hallway.

"Alohomora." Snape whispered and prodded the keyhole to the hospital wing with his wand. The door unlocked and he entered silently. He scanned the room quickly and saw no sign of Madame Pomfrey. Confident that he was alone, in the sense that everyone there was sleeping or sedated, he walked over to Harry's bed and looked down at the sleeping boy.

This was Lily's boy, Lily Potter's son. The woman he loved so desperately, and had loved for many years, had given birth to him. Despite his loathing for James and his often dislike for Harry, the boy he was keeping watch over now was the last living part of her. True, he symbolized the inevitable choice between James and himself, but Lily had loved this child. She had held him and rocked him and been his mother. Even though Snape hated that Harry was half of James, he was half of Lily as well. And that was the part that mattered most to him.

Seeing Harry suffer-and more importantly, at his own hand- was like watching Lily suffer. If Snape could do anything to stop it from happening, he would.

A few unwelcome tears fell from Snape's eyes, but he hastily wiped them away. He took one last look at Harry and whispered, as quietly as he could, "I won't let you do this to yourself, Potter. I won't." Then he was gone, vanishing into what was left of the dark night. As soon as he was gone, Harry opened his eyes and looked around for a moment. Was that...had that been..._Snape_?

The next day, Harry didn't wake up until after 11am. He stretched and looked around, the night's events coming back to him suddenly. He looked down at his left wrist and sighed, then jumped a little as Madame Pomfrey came bustling over.

"Let me see, there's a good lad," she said, removing the bandages from his wrist. "Let's see if this helps." She uncorked a bottle and sprinkled a few drops of dittany on the cuts, and after a few moments, they healed. Harry was left with two thick scars on his wrist, and he pulled his sleeve down over them.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"You're welcome. You're free to go, but Professor Dumbledore wants you to meet him in his office after you go. Here's a change of clothes." Madame Pomfrey pointed at his bedside table, then left so he could get changed in peace.

Harry absentmindedly rubbed the scars on his wrist as he headed towards Dumbledore's office. What excuse could he feed Dumbledore? He could say that Snape lied, and that it was an accident...but would he buy that? He could almost say with certainty that he wouldn't. He'd been so dumb, so stupid to go out, nothing could ever be the same again...

"HARRY!" Out of nowhere, Hermione ran up and hugged him hard. Ron was still running to catch up. "What happened last night? Why were you in the hospital wing?"

**A/N: I know this is supposed to be sixth book, but I felt like adding in the Snape stuff. Hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Sing it for the ones that hate your guts

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potter. Still spoilers for DH 2 and the book. :]**

"Well? Harry? Why were you in the hospital wing? Ron and I were so worried!" Hermione said. Ron was looking at Harry quizzically.

He knew that his friends were going to find out the truth eventually. He hoped it wouldn't get around school, but he knew somehow they would find out. Dumbledore was sure to fill in the Order about this, so they could keep a closer watch on him. He should tell them now. But as he started to speak, he realized he couldn't make the words, "I snuck out last night and cut myself" come out of his mouth. Nor would the words "Listen, guys, I'm depressed" or "I hate everything" come easily, either. So he did what he hadn't wanted to do...he lied.

"It was really ridiculous, I couldn't believe how stupid I was last night. I left to go for a walk with my invisibility cloak because I couldn't sleep, and somehow I ended up on the corridor Snape was patrolling. Well I accidentally stumbled a little and the cloak fell off and Snape saw me. I made a run for it and tripped and somehow knocked a portrait off the wall...glass everywhere, and I accidentally cut myself. It was bleeding pretty bad so Dumbledore took me to the hospital wing but now I have to go see him and find out what my punishment is." Harry finished breathlessly, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows. "How could you do something like that? You're supposed to be more careful than usual now, Harry, you can't be so reckless!"

Ron hadn't said anything. He was just studying his friend, and Harry could tell that Ron knew he was lying. Over the years, both of the boys had become so close with each other that they picked up on things regular friends might not notice. Ron knew that Harry was fidgety and nervous and both of those things usually ended up in him telling a lie. However, Harry wasn't going to give him the chance to call him on it, because he turned and started walking briskly down the hallway, calling, "I've gotta go see Dumbledore, catch you guys later."

He imagined Ron telling Hermione that Harry had just lied to them; Hermione saying that it couldn't be true, why would he lie to them unless he had something to hide? Then she'd think of the way he'd been sullen and quiet since the summer, and Ron would mutter something about how strange he'd been lately and they'd start to figure things out and...his heart was racing, the feeling was back. He felt like he did last night. Stressed, upset, scared.

Harry leaned against the cold stone wall and took a few deep breaths. There was part of the problem, and though he was glad he had pinpointed it, there was little he could think of to do to stop it from happening. When his mind raced like that, when everything spun out of control and there was nothing he could do to stop it, that was one of the reasons that he had taken up his new habit. He looked around. There had to be something, anything, he could use. He was looking around when the last voice he wanted to hear in the whole world rang out.

"Potter. You're supposed to be going to meet Professor Dumbledore, not standing around in the corridor like a buffoon. Come with me." Severus Snape said, gripping Harry's shoulder as tightly as he had the night before and steering him in the right direction.

They walked along in uncomfortable silence until they were standing outside of the stone gargoyle that lead to the Headmaster's office. "What's the password?" Harry asked, but Snape said nothing for a few moments.

"How have things healed up, Potter?" Snape asked suddenly, in an off-hand manner that suggested he could care less. But when he had seen Harry standing in the hallway, looking left and right as if he was searching for something, the old feelings from the night before had returned. The sour feeling of worry and concern about what Harry was doing; the anger that he was feeling these things for the boy that the man he loathed the most, James Potter, had helped to create; the sharp reminder that he was Lily's son, too. Against his better judgment, he had to ask and had to make sure he was alright.

When Snape asked him how his wrist had healed up, Harry tensed. It was not like him to, well, care about Harry or show any concern for him. Then the images from late last night, when he'd been mostly asleep, came back to him. A man with such a familiar hooked nose, standing over his bed, whispering something. Part of him thought it had been a strange dream, but it had felt so real. But why would Snape come visit him in the hospital wing, in the middle of the night, after he'd already been there?

"Fine, I guess." Harry said, for the first time slowly pulling up his sleeve and revealing the thick scars. Snape looked at them with difficulty and then turned away.

"Acid pops." Snape said, and the gargoyle moved aside to reveal the spinning staircase. He quickly jumped on and when he looked back, Snape was gone.

Harry knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office, and heard a deep, calm voice say "Come in, Harry." He pushed on the heavy door and found himself standing in the middle of one of the most interesting rooms in the castle. He had always loved it in there, always wanted to know what all of the magical objects were, but this time, things were different.

"Sit down, please." Dumbledore said, waving his hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk. Harry took a seat and crossed his arms, absentmindedly jiggling his foot and refusing to look Dumbledore in the eye.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, peering at him over his half-moon glasses.

"I don't want to talk about this. Can you just...give me my detentions or whatever and I'll be on my way?" He knew he was being disrespectful, but he also didn't care.

"I'm not going to give you detention and I am not going to-what was it?- send you on your way. You can try as hard as you like but this isn't just going to go away. What made you hurt yourself last night?"

Harry stared at him tight lipped. It felt nice for once to be holding all the control on his side of the table, to keep information from people as information had been kept from him in the past. But Dumbledore had a way of getting to people, especially Harry, and after ten minutes of the pair just staring at each other, he glared bitterly at him.

"Last night I couldn't sleep and I went for a walk and Professor Snape caught me and I accidentally cut my wrist when I was trying to hide from him. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry that I had to wake you up and stuff."

"Please don't lie to me, Harry. Professor Snape said he found you with the knife; he said you admitted to doing it yourself. No one is mad, we are simply worried and we all want to help you through this. I confess that I did not know you were feeling so upset about everything, otherwise I would have tried to get through to you sooner." They sat in silence again for a few moments, and then he said, "Harry? Are you okay? I just want you to know how much you are cared for and how no one wants you to be in pain."

There were tears in Harry's eyes, and he bent his head and wiped them away before looking back up at him. "Professor, what do you want me to say? That I'm sorry and I never meant for this to happen? Well that's true. I didn't want this to happen. I wish I could have been the guy who took all of this in stride but I guess that's just not in me. I'm not my parents. I wish I was."

Words began tumbling out of Harry's mouth, faster than he wanted them to, than he could think. "What else do you want me to say? That after we went home for the summer, the Dursleys ignored me like they always did, except this time I didn't want to be ignored? I missed Sirius-no, I _miss_ him, I still do- and I just wanted someone to talk to, but then Ron and Hermione wrote me and you know what? I didn't want to talk to them! It's crazy, I _am_ crazy, but I wanted nothing to do with anyone. And I just sat and I got lonelier and sadder and more depressed and then, one day, something happened. I was throwing my stuff back in my trunk and my Rememberall broke but instead of just cleaning up the glass, I did it...I did what I did last night. And for the first time I wasn't so upset and I wasn't so angry and things started making sense again. I don't know why. This was real. This was something I could look at and know the meaning of. And I didn't want to let that go. I still don't want to. I feel ashamed because of this and embarrassed but I don't want this to end."

Dumbledore looked at the boy who was sitting across from him, slowly realizing that he was not really so much a boy anymore. He was almost a man. He was almost grown and he had a drive, a fire inside him, and he had the will and conviction to do what he wanted. If this was the path Harry was choosing to take in order to feel better, there was precious little he, Dumbledore, could do about it. He could do everything in his power to try and keep Harry safe and to stop him from hurting himself, which he intended to do, but at the end of the day, these were his decisions.

"Harry, there is no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed. You are completely right- you are not your parents. You never have been and you never will be. But they were not perfect people, either. They both had flaws, as do we all. You don't need to be perfect, Harry. But I do not want you thinking this is your only way out of these feelings. When you're sad about Sirius or upset about any of the number of things you have going on in your young life, there are many people here, behind you, supporting you."

"It sure as hell doesn't always feel like it," Harry muttered sullenly.

"There's me, of course. And Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Remus and Tonks, even Professors McGonagall and Snape. Yes, Harry, Severus also is here for you. Have you told your friends?"

"No. They wouldn't understand."

"Have they stuck by you through everything?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I mean...yes, but this is different." Harry said. "They won't understand. How could they? How could anyone, I don't even fully understand it."

"Ron and Hermione are both exceptional people in their own ways. They will be there to support you. Try talking to them, I think you will be pleasantly surprised. Is there anything else you'd like to talk to me about?" Dumbledore asked, standing up from his chair and standing beside Harry.

"No. But can I have my invisibility cloak back?" Harry asked, seeing that Dumbledore had folded and stacked it neatly on a shelf behind his desk.

"I don't think now is the proper time for you to have it. I don't want you sneaking off and doing any of this again. Harry, I am trusting you now to go forth and make your own decisions, armed with the knowledge that if you are ever upset in any way, there are many people behind you. But if I find that you've been hurting yourself, I will have to take most drastic measures to insure that it doesn't happen anymore. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good. You can return to your common room, now, you're excused from classes the rest of the day."

Harry turned and left Professor Dumbledore's office without a word. He walked angrily back to the Gryffindor common room, his blood boiling. It was his body, what on earth did Dumbledore care what he did with it? And what the hell were 'drastic measures', anyways? His words kept playing over and over in Harry's head, about there being numerous people for him to talk to and that his friends might really understand. The only thing that he could understand was that his life had just taken a turn for the worse. He'd now have everyone breathing down his neck.

He shouted the password at the portrait of the Fat Lady and walked into the Common Room. It was mercifully empty, everyone else being in their classes or outside enjoying their free periods. The words 'drastic measures' kept bouncing around in his brain as he picked up a water glass that had been left sitting on the table. The words 'many people supporting you' rattled around in there as he smashed it into several large pieces. And his mind went blank when he used one to decorate his arm again.

After three or four quick cuts, Harry jumped as he heard a thud behind him. He turned around and saw Ron standing there, pale, staring at Harry's arm.

"You did it to yourself last night, didn't you?"


	4. I am not the singer that you wanted

A/N: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. :]

Thanks again, as always, for reading!

Ron came over and took the piece of glass out of Harry's hand. "Answer me! You did it to yourself last night, didn't you?" He couldn't take his eyes off of the blood dripping from his best friend's arm. He was surprised at how much it was hurting him to look. How could Harry be doing this?

"No, I didn't. It was an accident." Harry said stubbornly, taking his wand out of the pocket of his jeans and trying to heal the cuts as quick as he could without Ron seeing anymore. However, he was definitely not as skilled as Madam Pomfrey was and only succeeded in siphoning some of the blood away.

"Stop lying! You lied to us this morning, I saw it in your eyes and I tried to tell Hermione, but she said I was being stupid. Whether you like it or not, I know you, Harry. But I don't know why you're doing this." Ron sat on the couch next to him. "Doesn't it, like...hurt?"

Harry was sick of lying, especially to the people he was closest to. Now, on top of everything else, he was feeling guilty, just by looking at Ron's face. They had shared everything for over 5 years, and he knew it was hurting him, knowing that there was something he hadn't bothered sharing.

"Yeah, it hurts...but not as much as other stuff." Harry said quietly, looking down at the new, fresh cuts that were laced on top of the scars from last night. Two days in a row he had done this, and two days in a row he had been caught. He either needed to be way more careful, or stop doing this altogether.

"Is it Sirius? Is that why you're upset?" Ron asked gently.

"Yes, I mean...I don't know...it's everything." Harry said as he got up from the couch and started looking for something to wrap his wrist with. He headed upstairs to their dormitory.

"I'm not done talking to you!" Ron said angrily, following him up the stone steps.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you and Hermione," Harry said, rummaging through his trunk to avoid looking at him. "But this was something I was doing on my own. I didn't want input because I knew you guys would just tell me to stop." Harry found an old pair of his robes that he'd outgrown, and he used his wand to slice a strip of it off, big enough to bandage his wrist.

"You're bloody right we're going to tell you to stop! You can't keep hurting yourself, Harry." Ron watched as Harry tried to tie the piece of cloth around his wrist, and struggled. His hands were shaking and he kept losing his holdings on it. Whether it was from pain or his nerves, Ron didn't know, but he came over and tied it for his friend. It was the least he could think of to do.

"Thank you." Harry said quietly, staring at his wrist with an odd look on his face. He would hide these. He would let them heal on their own, the way a muggle would have to, and maybe these scars would look different. With a sigh, he sat on his bed and Ron sat on his. He looked over at him and knew that he should tell Ron what had really happened last night.

"Before you have to ask, I'm going to tell you what happened last night. You really are my best friend, Ron. I want you to know that. Me keeping this from you, it has nothing to do with that." Harry took a deep breath and allowed his mind to travel back, back to last night when everything had gone to hell.

"So last night, after everyone else was in bed, I couldn't sleep and I decided to grab my invisibility cloak and go for a walk. My mind was racing and I was feeling..." He paused, reaching for the right word to explain how he felt when he wanted to cut. "I was feeling...bad. That's pretty much the simplest term to describe it. Bad. Anyways. I went for a walk and I, I had my knife from potions and I sat down in the middle of the corridor with the cloak over me and that's when I did it. I didn't notice Snape until after I'd already dropped the knife and he saw it...he brought Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey back but I tried to make a run for it and hide from them."

"You ran away from _Dumbledore_?" Ron asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I honestly didn't have anything to lose...they had already seen me doing what I didn't want them to see. I eventually found my way into an empty classroom, but they found me and sent me to the hospital wing. The rest is history, I guess." Harry muttered, staring at his shoes.

"What did Dumbledore say this morning?" Ron asked, his eyes wide, still unable to really believe that Harry had been daring enough to run away from the headmaster when he'd surely been given a direct order not to move.

"We talked about a bunch of stuff. Mainly about how I shouldn't feel alone and I have a lot of people here at Hogwarts and in the Order that care about me and don't want to see me hurting myself. He's probably already told everyone so they can make sure I won't go psycho and...I don't know. He told me to trust you and Hermione with this because you've always been there for me and wouldn't abandon me." Harry looked up at Ron to see if this was indeed true.

Ron looked a little surprised. "Of course we wouldn't 'abandon' you because of this! We've stuck by you all of this time Harry, do you think that this would be the thing that drove us away?"

"I don't know. I just thought about how I don't even understand this, so how are you two supposed to?"

"Who said we have to understand? I'll be the first to say that I don't get why you're doing this, mate, why this feels okay. But that doesn't mean I'm not here for you to talk to and to help keep you from doing it."

Harry sighed and ran his hands through his jet black hair. "That's the thing, I don't want to stop doing it! Nobody sees, I have finally found something that is simple and makes me feel better, out of all of this. I might not understand why this had to be my life...why I was born to be a marked man and why Voldemort chose me when he heard that Prophecy...why I was destined to lose my parents and my godfather. I might not know why cutting helps, but it does and that's all I really matters."

Ron was at a complete loss. He had never seen Harry like this. He had felt better when he had told him the truth, when he'd discovered that things between he, Harry and Hermione weren't falling apart as he had been worrying they might be the last month. But how was he to stop someone, his best friend, even, from hurting themselves if that was what they truly wanted? But Ron was nothing if not determined and stubborn, and he was determined to make sure that Harry got through this and knew he had friends beside him.

Suddenly, Harry cleared his throat and made Ron look back up at him.

"Dumbledore also said that if he found out I was still cutting, he'd have to take drastic measures to make sure I didn't do it anymore. I don't know what he meant, I don't know what he'd do, but I don't want to find out. Promise me you won't tell him, Ron. Please. I promise that I'm going to try not to do it anymore. I know that I have you guys behind me now and if I get upset, I swear I'll talk to someone. Anybody. But please don't tell Dumbledore. Let me have one more chance." Harry said urgently.

And Ron believed him. He promised that he wouldn't tell; he gave Harry the chance to learn how to cope with things again.

_Break break break_

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of essays and exams. The teachers hadn't let up on them, seeing as they were NEWTS students now, and the constant barrage of homework and studying kept Harry, Ron and Hermione with their nose to the grindstone.

Harry was now having weekly meetings with Dumbledore, which he'd grown to both embrace and loathe. He hated having to sit in front of Professor Dumbledore and bare his soul and reveal what he was truly feeling. He didn't like talking about the constant ache that he had from missing Sirius, or the way the stress he was under with school and worrying about Voldemort was affecting him. But on the other hand, as uncomfortable as he sometimes was during the meetings, he always left feeling a bit better, like he'd taken things and dumped them out temporarily. The worries and the pain were still there, but they were being kept at bay. For a few weeks, it looked as if Harry would be keeping his promise to Ron.

Ron had been secretly keeping a close an eye on Harry as he could. He had filled in Hermione about what Harry had said (per his request) so she was doing the same, but much less subtly. Ron kept his eyes peeled to Harry's arms, checking for new cuts when he wasn't looking, and trying to stick close to him so he couldn't sneak off. As the weeks went on, Ron started to feel as if the storm had passed by Harry, as it were, and that his friend had relearned how to cope with his problems...but he was wrong

A little more than a month after Snape discovered him in the hallway, Harry started having the nightmares. Every night he tossed and turned, and every night the scene changed slightly, but they never ceased to be upsetting. One night he was relived Sirius' death, over and over, as if it was a tape that kept skipping. Another night he dreamed of his parents' murders. Another night, Pettigrew's betrayal. Voldemort was always present, ruining everything, trapping him in a hell-hole.

On the fourth night, Harry bolted up in bed, gasping for air, drenched in a cold sweat. Sirius' face and his parents' were still swimming in front of his eyes, and Harry started feeling jumpy. He wanted to run around, he wanted to bash his head into the wall, he wanted to do anything, but most of all, he wanted to cut. "It's not worth it," he argued with his brain. "You're doing so well, just wait and talk to someone about it in the morning." But the more he tried to convince himself that he was fine, the less fine he became, and he reached slowly under his mattress. He had nicked a razor blade from one of his classes and stashed it under his bed, against his better judgment, just in case. He knew he couldn't do it on his arms or wrists, because someone would notice immediately. After a second of thinking, he lifted up his shirt and slowly made a few cuts in his stomach. They weren't all that deep, and didn't bleed that much-just enough to give him a distraction.

Over the next few nights, as the nightmares increased, so did the amount of cuts. They weren't limited to just his stomach, but a few on his ankle and leg, as well. It didn't matter where, as long as they were hard to be seen. As the nights wore on into weeks, the red lines blurred together, marking the mistakes of a boy who didn't know exactly what he wanted, besides relief.


	5. but a dancer

**A/N: Still don't own Harry Potter, but I am waiting for my Pottermore letter...hahaha. **

**A special thanks goes to Teufel1987 for helping me bounce ideas around and helping to get the creative juices flowing again ;]**

**Enjoy the new chapterrr!**

A week after Harry had started having the terrible nightmares that had lead him back to his old ways, he was sitting in Charms class next to Ron and Hermione. As Professor Flitwick entered the classroom, Harry leaned his head into his hand and yawned widely.

"Did you stay up late doing that essay for Snape?" Hermione asked him quietly as his eyes drooped.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." He said to Hermione, flipping through the pages of his textbook absentmindedly. In reality he had gone to bed not that long after she and Ron had said goodnight. He'd been avoiding going to bed at the same time as them, because he wanted to change into his pajamas alone so that no one in his dormitory could see his stomach or his legs. They had been looking worse and worse, and he knew if Ron saw, Dumbledore would know faster than he he could start an explanation. His fatigue came solely from the terrible dreams he'd been having.

Professor Flitwick tapped his wand on the lectern at the front of the class and cleared his throat. The chatter between students died down and so he said, "Today we will be learning about hiding charms, class, specifically the Dissendio charm. This can be very helpful in hiding things from the eyes of people who ought not to see it, but be careful-if done incorrectly it can make things worse and make them _more_ visible and obvious to the person you are trying to hide it from."

Harry's ears perked up. This charm might be just what he needed. If he mastered it correctly, he would have no problems when it came to cutting; he could just hide them from people. He waited for Professor Flitwick to describe the incantation.

"Now we will be practicing Dissendio on your textbooks. Point your wand at the item and say '_Dissendium_' while tracing your wand over it. Observe: _Dissendium_!" Professor Flitwick said, tracing his wand slowly over the goblet he had been drinking out of. It slowly turned the color of the lectern it was balanced on, fading into the background until it was indistinguishable. The whole class murmured in amazement. "Alright, now off you go."

Everyone started to practice, as Professor Flitwick wandered around the classroom to give tips to those who were having a rough time. Ron was one of them who was having difficulties; he prodded his textbook with his wand said, "_Dissandium_!", which was the wrong incantation, and his book suddenly turned a violent fuschia color that seemed to glow even in the brightly lit classroom.

Professor Flitwick laughed and said, "See here, everyone, the effects of the Dissendio charm when performed incorrectly. It's alright, Mr. Weasley, just be careful to speak clearly and trace your wand over the item. _Dissendium_!" And just like that, Ron's textbook vanished.

"Professor? How do we make the items reveal themselves again?" Someone in the back of the room asked.

"Well, the charm only lasts for so long, 6 hours at the very most, but in order to reveal the items again, you have to use the same method and say '_Revelio_'."

Hermione and Ron noticed that Harry was, almost instantly, very good at the Dissendio charm. His textbook had vanished right before their eyes, and he mastered the counter charm quickly as well. Ron was still struggling a bit by the end of class, and Hermione had mastered it as well, but it took her longer than Harry. After class, Harry muttered something about having to go to the bathroom and left his friends behind him.

Once he was safely behind the doors of one of the stalls, Harry rolled the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing the thick scars that were on his otherwise unmarked wrist. He traced his wand along his wrist, muttering the only cutting curse he knew as he went: "_Lacero_."

The cut was thicker and deeper than he had expected it to be, and it started bleeding rather quickly. The pain was blinding him, and everything felt white hot. The blood dripped down his arm staining his white shirt. "_Tergeo_," he whispered, siphoning away some of the blood, although more appeared in its place quickly. "Bloody hell." He had to heal this wound, but every time he had tried in the past it hadn't really done anything. He hadn't mastered it yet. "E-e-episkey!" He yelled, his voice trembling, but again, it didn't do much. This wound was perhaps even too large for that spell.

"Harry?" He heard Ron's voice call, and the door to the bathroom slam shut. "Where are you?"

"I'm going to the bathroom!" He yelled, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was. He had to hide this from Ron, but how could he? It seemed he had backed himself into a corner with this one. "Dissendium," he muttered, tracing his wand over the thick cut, and he could barely believe it, but the cut vanished into his skin. It still hurt like hell, but it had at least vanished so that he could figure out what to do. Before he exited the stall, he pulled up his shirt and used the charm to hide the cuts on his belly.

As he pulled down his shirt, he released with horror that once the blood touched something-as it had just dripped onto the floor- it became visible again. The cut was invisible, but the blood was not. "Scourgify!" He whispered, pointing at his blood stained shirt, and it became white and pristine again. He would just have to keep an eye on it, that was all. He left the bathroom with Ron, assuring his friend that he was fine.

The rest of the day went by very slowly. Harry knew he was losing blood; a lot of it, if the evidence on his shirt was anything to be taken seriously. By the end of the school day, he was feeling slightly woozy, and the cut had started to slowly reveal itself under his shirt. He told Ron and Hermione he wasn't feeling good and would be going back to the common room. Ron tried to stop him, but Hermione told him to just let Harry go.

As Harry walked, he thought of the many times he had had to use the Scourgify spell today flooded his brain. It was amazing that no one had noticed. As he was walking down the empty corridor, everyone else being at dinner, he felt very faint and leaned against the wall, taking deep breathes. He felt light headed, and he rolled up his sleeve, which was all bloody again. The cut had started to reveal itself, and was almost back. He needed help, he needed Madam Pomfrey, he needed someone.

After a few moments, he sank to the floor clutching his wrist. He didn't think he could handle this anymore, this pain, all this blood, and this secret. That was what it had turned into, the past week, another secret, and he hated it. He hated him for keeping it from everyone.

"Potter?" He heard Snape's voice and shuddered. This was the second time he would be finding him like this, but he was too weak to care. "What happened?" Snape ran over to him and knelt down on the ground. He studied the indent of the cut on his arm. "What is going on?"

"D-d-dissendio." He murmured, unable to explain. Fortunately, Snape understood.

"Revelio!" He said, and the deep cut revealed itself all the way. He gasped slightly and then said, "Potter, I thought this was over. Potter, stay with me." Snape said sternly, as Harry's eyes were closing.

"I made a mistake, Professor." He said quietly before he slipped away from consciousness.

"Levicorpus!" Snape called, pointing his wand at Harry's unconscious body, which he levitated and brought to the hospital wing.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked, seeing Harry.

"He cut himself again, very badly this time, and it looks as if he's had it for a while. He's lost a lot of blood." Snape levitated him to the nearest bed and then said, "I've got to go get Dumbledore, he needs to know that the boy is hurt."

"It just so happens, Severus, that these fine young wizards came and alerted me to Harry's absence at dinner. I went looking for him but eventually followed the trail of blood here." Dumbledore had entered the hospital wing, closely followed by Ron and Hermione. She was crying, tears snaking down her face even faster when she saw Harry covered in blood and laying on the bed. Madam Pomfrey was bent over him, closing the cut on his wrist.

"Is he going to be all right?" Ron asked in a strangely high voice.

"Madam Pomfrey will take good care of him, Mr. Weasley. Now take Ms. Granger back to the common room. I will come get you tomorrow when you can come see him. And thank you for telling me," Dumbledore said kindly.

"There," Madam Pomfrey breathed a sigh of relief. "At least the wound is closed. Let's get him out of this shirt." She said, wrinkling her nose at the blood stained dress shirt Harry had been wearing. She pointed her wand at the shirt, which came right off to reveal the many cuts, in varying degrees of thickness and size, on Harry's stomach. Snape looked away and Dumbledore sighed.

"He's cutting again, Albus." Snape said quietly. "What are you going to do?"

With another sigh and a pained expression on his face, he said to Snape, "Whatever I have to do to keep him safe."

**A/N: Side note, Dissendium is used to open the one-eyed witch's hump in Prisoner of Azkaban, but according to , the etymology of the word also means to conceal, disguise or keep secret. I decided to use that instead of the disillusionment charm, because that is used to make people invisible...ahem. Haha.**


	6. What tomorrow brings

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potter. :]**

Ron lead Hermione from the hospital wing, his arm wrapped tightly around her as he steered her away. Once they were back in the common room, she started to cry harder.

"Shh. Everything's going to be alright," Ron whispered, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him.

"What if he's not, though, Ron? How could he do something like this? What if he dies? Did you see him, he was so still..." Hermione said, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. She couldn't get the picture of Harry unconscious in the hospital bed out of her mind. And the blood, and those cuts. She had never seen him like that, and she had hoped she never would have to. "I thought he had stopped cutting."

"Yeah. So did I." Ron said in a small, defeated voice. "I tried to help him. I did everything I could for him."

"This isn't your fault," Hermione murmured, sitting up and looking at Ron. "You're a great friend, Ron...to me and Harry."

"I guess," Ron muttered, not entirely convinced. There had to have been something-some sign that he'd missed in the last month, something Harry had said or done that should have made it clear that he was caught up in hurting himself again.

"Ron?" Hermione asked after he hadn't said anything for a few moments.

He looked up and said, "Dumbledore will take care of it." He felt confident in thinking that, knowing that Dumbledore always took care of everything.

Harry opened his eyes, stood up and looked around. What was going on? He felt like he was looking in at some memories in the Pensieve, only they weren't moving; he was looking at himself on the ground, unconscious, while Snape was kneeling next to him. It creeped him out, but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. But then...

"Harry." He turned and looked to see who the voice belonged to. It was Sirius, standing behind him and down the hall a little bit. Harry went over to him as fast as he could, not caring that this was obviously a dream, or his unconscious mind playing tricks on him. This was Sirius, in front of him, the person he needed to see most during all of this. He hugged him as hard as he could, and Sirius hugged him back. They broke apart and looked at each other.

"What's going on, Sirius? What is all of this?" Harry asked, gesturing to his and Snape's still forms down the hallway from them. Sirius turned away and after a moment, so did Harry.

"Look at you. You're taller." Sirius said, smiling at him. He waited patiently, expectantly, for an answer to his question. Sirius sighed and scratched his head. "The truth? I don't entirely know. I don't know what's going on, or why I'm here. I like to think that maybe I'm getting a chance to try and get through to you."

"Get through to me?" Harry questioned.

He sighed. "Harry, it's not easy for me to watch you struggle and know there's nothing I can do to change it. But maybe this is my one chance to help you see that hurting yourself is not the answer to what's bothering you."

"I've heard all of this a million times from Dumbledore and everyone else." Harry said, slightly annoyed that the precious few moments he was getting with his godfather would be spent hashing over his bad habit. "I know you must be ashamed of me."

Sirius sighed. "You've got to stop thinking so negatively. I am not ashamed of you. I might think that you're making mistakes, but that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you."

"I wouldn't blame you if you were." Harry said bitterly.

"Look. I feel as if we don't have much time left." Sirius said, gripping Harry's shoulders tightly. "You are an extraordinary and intelligent young man with an unbelievable amount of potential, and as much as you're probably sick of hearing this, you have a lot of people on your side who love you and care about you so much." Sirius paused for a minute. "Cutting yourself, and sneaking around and hiding things from those people, well, it's not the way to deal with what's bothering you. You've got a choice to make when you wake up, Harry-and you will wake up. You have to choose to either continue down this path that has almost killed you, or you can choose to wake up and start fresh. Confide in the people around you. Grow. Become an adult. Face your difficulties head on. Discover what amazing things await you."

Harry tried to blink back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. "I just...there's just so much I have to live up to and I...I just miss you, Sirius."

"I know you do, kiddo, but let me tell you something. This-" Sirius shoved Harry's sleeve up and held his wrist, revealing the thick scars that laid underneath, "-is not the way to deal with it. This is scary. It's dangerous and life-threatening. If Snape hadn't found you today, you might be dead. This is not how you deal with your problems and with missing me. Believe me when I say that I miss the hell out of you, too. But it's killing me to see you suffer like this, Harry. I don't want this life for you." Sirius stared into Harry's eyes, begging him to really hear what he was saying.

"What if I'm not strong enough? For anything? What if I can't do this without you and Mum and Dad?" Harry asked quietly, speaking of some of his most intense fears.

"We are always here for you, in here." Sirius touched Harry's chest, where his heart was. "Do what you need to do to get through, Harry, as long as it isn't hurting yourself. Talk to your friends. Kick something, swear, anything. Write us letters. We'll know what they say, regardless of whether or not you mail it. It's one of the perks," He said with a wink. "But I have to go now. And so do you."

"Please don't leave me," Harry said in a pained voice, not wanting to seem weak and inadequate, but part of him thought that ship had already sailed.

"I'm always here for you. Make the right choices, Harry." With a flash, Sirius was gone, the corridor was gone, he and Snape were gone, and Harry was opening his eyes. He jammed them back shut instantly, his eyes aching from the bright lights. He slowly eased them open as they adjusted to the light. When he went to rub his eyes, however, he found that he couldn't move his arms. His wrists were held tightly to the sides of the bed by some magical conjured chains, made out of what appeared to be thick black smoke, but was clearly stronger.

He looked around wildly, searching for his wand, but he knew it was hopeless. His wand was out of sight and he didn't have a chance of releasing himself even if he could see it. He was stuck. After a few minutes of struggling to free himself manually from the restraints, he let out a yell. "HELP!" he screamed.

Madame Pomfrey came hurrying into the room and saw him thrashing about. "Oh dear, Mr. Potter, calm down. Let me see that wrist of yours." She murmured a spell under her breath and the restraint on his left arm vanished. He saw that he had a thick bandage around his wrist, and she moved it aside to get a good look. "It'll heal nicely if nothing disturbs it."

"Why am I chained up?" Harry asked angrily, not giving much of a care about the state of his wrist as he was more preoccupied with his lack of freedom.

"It's for your own safety. Let me get Professor Dumbledore and he will explain the new situation you find yourself in." She hurried away.

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore came into the hospital wing, conjured up a stool next to Harry's bedside. "How are you feeling, Harry? You've been out for over 12 hours."

"Please, sir, can't you take away these chains or whatever they are? I won't do anything, I swear, please. It's just driving me mad." Harry pleaded with Professor Dumbledore. He seemed to consider what Harry had said, then with a flick of his wand, freed him. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"I am concerned about you, Harry. This is far worse than I had anticipated. I thought we were making real progress, but it seems as if yesterday you took quite a few steps backward."

"I know. I'm sorry." He said quietly.

"If Professor Snape hadn't found you, you would probably be dead. He deserves a proper thank you, as do your friends, who came to find me after you were missing a dinner. But putting all that aside, we need to discuss what needs to be done in order to keep you safe." Dumbledore said gently, looking into Harry's eyes.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked in a timid voice, picturing himself locked in a cell with one meal a day shoved under a door, like Aunt Petunia had done one summer.

"One month ago, I told you that drastic measures would be taken to ensure your safety if you continued to harm yourself. I have thought on this all night, and I have come up with a plan that we will have to follow, at least for the next little while." Dumbledore paused for a moment before going on. "First of all, you will be escorted to your classes by a teacher to make sure that you won't sneak off and do something like this again. I have informed all of your teachers of what has happened, and they have been instructed to keep a very close watch on you.

Secondly, you will be allowed to do your studying and homework in the library, at a table right next to Madame Pince who will keep an eye on you. This will be necessary because, for the next little while, you will not be living in Gryffindor Tower. You will sleep here, in the hospital wing, so you will be unable to sneak out of bed after dark. You're to give your wand to Madame Pomfrey before you go to bed for the evening, and I still have your invisibility cloak."

Harry's jaw dropped. The cage he had imagined earlier now sounded like paradise compared to the prison plan Dumbledore had just laid out for him!

"What do you _mean_, I'll be living in the hospital wing? What about my friends? What about free time?"

"You will be allowed to spend free time with your friends as before, as long as you are in their company and not alone." Dumbledore had a sad look on his face as he looked at Harry's shocked face. "I am very sorry, Harry. This won't be forever, just until we've determined you can be trusted to be on your own again."

"This is completely bloody unfair!" Harry cried, his face flushing a deep red.

"I'm sorry. I really am. Now, if you're feeling up to it, I believe Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley would be thrilled to see you." Dumbledore patted Harry gently on the shoulder before standing up and exiting the room to get his friends.

Harry covered his eyes with his hands and took deep breathes. How was he supposed to prove that he could be trusted when his every ounce of privacy had just been taken away? What was he going to do now? "This is a mess, Sirius, I'd be better off wherever you are." Harry muttered as Ron and Hermione came into the hospital wing.

**A/N: I'm writing the story and even I felt bad for Harry ;] Thanks for reading.**


	7. this will blow over in time

**A/N: So thanks, as always, for the lovely feedback you've all given me. It means a lot. **

**Now I'm going to do a shameless plug...I've put up a new story earlier today and I would love to know what anyone thinks of it...it's called Certain Inadequacies, it's a short, cute little fluff piece, haha. I've tried to make the title a link but I have no idea if it works...if it doesn't, it should be the second story on my author page. If you guys think it sounds good, I would appreciate the feedback. Thanks much ;] Enjoy.**

Ron and Hermione came into the hospital wing and sat down next to Harry's bed. He was still fuming, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down. He couldn't believe the plan that Dumbledore had just laid out to him. He was really expected to do all of those things? Had Dumbledore finally gone round the bend? After five minutes of complete silence, Ron finally spoke.

"How are you feeling, mate?" He asked quietly.

Harry said nothing, continuing to stare at the ceiling. He wasn't going to say a word. Maybe if he didn't say anything, he'd wake up in a few minutes and this would all have been one terrible nightmare.

"You look good...not peaky at all. Mum would even be happy with you," Ron said in a slightly joking voice, but still, Harry didn't look at his friends. Yes, that was it. He'd wake up in a few minutes and find out that everything before he'd cut in the bathroom was a terrible dream. He'd be ready to go to class. The part with Sirius had been pleasant enough, at least there was that.

"Harry, please look at us," Hermione said in a slightly teary voice. "Please."

Maybe if he closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, he'd wake up. He tried it. Nope. Nothing. He was still in the hospital wing. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he was growing cold. This wasn't a dream, as much as he wished it was. He chewed on his lower lip.

"Dumbledore says that you've only got to stay here for two or three days, and then you can go back to classes. Seems lucky, doesn't it, we thought you'd have to be here for at least a week." Ron said.

Finally, Harry broke his concentration with the ceiling and glared at the two of them. "Yes, it's really lucky, isn't it, that I get to go back to classes in two or three days. Well, never mind the fact that I'm going to be living here for the rest of my natural born life, at least I can get back to the rest of my prison sentence in a few days!"

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Ron asked, sitting up as Hermione did the same thing. "Prison sentence?"

"Oh, you mean Dumbledore didn't tell you? I thought you three were best buddies now, I mean, you go telling him everything, shouldn't he extend you the same courtesy?" Harry said bitterly.

"Harry, we only went to find Dumbledore last night after you didn't come to dinner because we were worried about you. And for good reason, it seems. He'd have found out even if Ron and I didn't look for him." Hermione said in a slightly angry, but shaking voice. "What's this about a prison sentence?"

"You really want to know? Okay, well here it is. I'm pretty much on some crazed sort of lockdown from now until whenever Dumbledore says otherwise. I'm not living in Gryffindor Tower anymore, I have to sleep here, and I'm to do my homework at some table in front of Madam Pince in the library. I'm only allowed to go places in the castle when I'm accompanied by the two of you, or, alternatively, when I'm being lead to my classes like a dog by a teacher, which is how I have to get to every single class. Oh, and I have to surrender my wand to Madam Pomfrey before I go to bed at night."

"Wow, mate, that's awful. I'm sorry," Ron said, although deep inside, very deep down, he felt the fist in his stomach that had been clenched in tension ever since he'd found out about Harry's cutting slightly unclench in relief. Finally the matter of keeping tabs on his best friend wasn't entirely up to him, and now he knew Harry would be watched all of the time, to make sure that he wouldn't do this again.

"It does seem rather harsh, Harry, but...and I'm only saying this because I care about you, keep in mind...maybe this doesn't have to be such a terrible thing." Hermione said in a tiny voice, playing the devil's advocate as she always did.

"Have you gone mental? How could this not be a terrible thing? Yeah, yeah, I get it, I won't be able to hurt myself anymore and maybe the lack of privacy will force me to realize what's going on in my head and I won't want to cut anymore, blah blah...as if any of you know what was going on in my head, anyways. As if anybody, Dumbledore included, has the right to make this decision." Harry said angrily.

"We tried to get inside your head, but you never let any of us in!" Ron burst out with angrily, glaring at his best friend. "I tried every day to understand what you were trying to say, and I tried to keep you safe...that's the reason we went after Dumbledore when you weren't there, not because of some weird imaginary plan of sabotage you think everyone has! We wanted to keep you safe because you're our best friend! Try thinking about that next time you're trying to rip yourself open." Ron said, getting up from his stool and striding angrily across the hospital wing, through the double doors, and back towards Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione sighed. "He's been really upset about all of this. He feels like it's his fault that it got this bad again, because he made it his mission after the first time to keep you safe. He might be acting like a jerk right now but he's been really broken up because of all of this."

Harry rubbed his eyes hard, then sat up and faced Hermione. "I know, I wish I could figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I have no idea. I go between being mad at everyone around me, for trying to stop me...being sorry and scared about hurting myself...and wanting to stop." He paused for a second, wondering if he should tell Hermione about his dream of Sirius. He figured he had nothing left to lose. "When I passed out yesterday, I had this dream, about Sirius. He told me that I had a lot of potential and I had to make a choice to either keep cutting or to live my life the way I should be." He took a deep breath. "Then he told me that that this was not the way the way to deal with missing him and my Mum and Dad." He gently touched the bandage on his wrist.

Hermione looked at him with tears in her brown eyes. "He was right."

Harry nodded a few times, then said, "Please tell Ron I'm sorry."

Three days in the hospital wing, with some spells and potions by Madam Pomfrey, had Harry back on his feet with an even bigger and more noticeable scar on his wrist. She gave him her seal of approval and told Dumbledore, who had checked up on Harry every morning since he'd been there, that it was okay for him to return to classes that day.

"That's wonderful. Harry, if you'll just go get dressed, I will take to you to your first lesson...I believe you have Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning with Professor Snape first."

Harry said nothing to Dumbledore, but instead gathered his robes and went into the bathroom off the hospital wing, which had nothing inside it except a toilet and a sink and some soap. He changed quickly into his school uniform, collected his wand from Madam Pomfrey, and then walked down the hall with Dumbledore.

"I hope you bear me no ill will, Harry. This is, after all, only for your protection." Dumbledore said quietly as they walked.

"I know, sir, but I don't feel like I need to be watched this closely."

"You almost died a few days ago, Harry-the fact that you don't seem to fully understand the gravity of the situation, even after that, is what tells me you do need to be monitored."

"But I do understand! I swear!" he said earnestly, unable to find the words that would make Dumbledore understand that Harry meant it. They had come to a stop outside of the classroom by then. Dumbledore looked at him and then placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"This isn't a permanent thing, Harry. I don't know how long it will be for, but it won't be forever. Please understand where I'm coming from; you mean a great deal to me and to others and this is how we will keep you safe. This isn't a punishment, although you most likely feel that it is. I promise you. Now Professor Snape will walk you to Transfiguration, and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will take you to lunch and dinner and afterwards, the library to do homework. You've got a free period from 8-9, which you may do whatever you usually do with your friends, as long as you are with them. You're to report back to the hospital wing no later than 9:15pm to give your wand to Madam Pomfrey and get ready for bed. Have a good day."

And with that, Harry's new, rather oppressive, schedule had begun.

He walked into the classroom, and instantly every pair of eyes in the room, including Snape's, was on him. He slid into a seat next to Ron, who'd forgiven him at Hermione's insistence, and took out his text book and wand. "All right, Harry?" Ron asked quietly, which Harry replied to with a nod.

It was clear that his stay in the hospital wing had not gone unnoticed by the other students, as he had hoped in vain that it would. He heard the word 'cutting' being whispered back and forth, and with a sinking feeling he realized that everyone knew exactly why he had been gone.

Snape called for attention and all of the whispers stopped almost immediately. Even though everyone was fairly silent as Snape lectured, Harry could feel the stares and it was a very long lesson. By the end of it, he was more than ready to move on to Transfiguration, although he knew the staring wouldn't end.

He waved Ron and Hermione on, reminding them that Snape had to walk him to class, and they nodded with sympathetic looks on their faces and left. Soon, it was just Harry and Professor Snape left in the classroom; the latter stood up without a word and started to walk towards the Transfiguration classroom. As they walked, Harry scratched at his arm, which had begun to itch slightly, and he felt Snape looking at him.

"How are you doing today, Potter?" Snape asked stiffly as they walked down a deserted corridor.

"Not that well, truthfully." He said quietly. Without remembering who he was talking to, he said suddenly, "Everyone knows about the cutting, don't they?"

Snape thought for a moment. "Word travels fast in this school, so yes. Most know."

"I don't want them to know. Some people still thought I was crazy after last year, but now everyone does again. Not to mention Professor Dumbledore's new 'schedule' for me is already getting a little old."

"The Headmaster saw no other way of keeping you safe, Potter, you'll do well to remember that. He doesn't make rash decisions, if this is what he thinks is best than it is." Snape said rather coldly.

"I know." Harry said, when what he was really thinking was, that doesn't stop it from sucking.

"Transfiguration." Snape said briskly as they stopped outside of the classroom. He turned on his heel and started to walk away.

"Thanks." Harry said. He was about to walk into the classroom to more stares and whispers when he heard Snape's voice again.

"Potter." Harry turned back. "Don't let the unwanted attention keep you from making better choices. This will die down eventually."

Harry blinked surprisingly back at Snape. "Thank you, Professor." He received a curt nod, then he went inside to Transfiguration.

**A/N: Next chapter...some letters...**


	8. Try to stop my hands from shaking

**A/N: I have no idea how a normal day at Hogwarts is structured. Let's go with 3 classes then lunch? I haven't thought much beyond that. Lol. Thanks for reading.**

Transfiguration went by much the same as Defense Against the Dark Arts had, with lots of whispers and even more stares. He tried to keep his head down and ignore everyone, and occasionally Hermione would touch his hand gently, something that he found sort of anchored him and made him feel better about it all. He could see that Professor McGonagall was getting annoyed by the obvious distraction that was going on in her classroom, but she mercifully left it alone. The class was supposed to be practicing their Vanishing spells on mice, a refresher from the year before. However, by the end of the period, only a handful of people, including Hermione, had seemed to be able to concentrate enough to fully vanish their mice. Most people had mice with no tails, or missing ears. Harry's hadn't changed at all. He hadn't really given it much effort, to be honest. It was hard for him to give a crap about Vanishing spells today.

Finally, an exasperated Professor McGonagall said, "ALL RIGHT, you are all dismissed. I want an essay on Vanishing spells and why they are important on my desk next class...and practice the spell! We will be doing much more difficult things soon, I am disappointed in the lack of progress made today. Have a good day."

Everyone filed out of the classroom, grumbling about the essay, while Harry, Ron and Hermione remained seated. McGonagall was busy gathering up all of the leftover mice with her wand and stacking papers on her desk. She looked up at Harry and said, "Potter, I'll be walking you down to Herbology, just give me a few minutes."

He nodded, and let his head sink into his hands. "I don't know how much more I can take of this," he muttered to Ron and Hermione. Hermione impulsively hugged him and Ron just looked at him sadly.

"Granger, Weasley, shouldn't you be heading down to Herbology?" McGonagall said sharply.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, nudging Ron as they got up and gathered their things to leave. "See you soon." Hermione said quietly.

Shortly after his friends had left, McGonagall came over to him and said, "Alright, ready to go?"

The walk down to Greenhouse 5 was long, and filled with silence. It wasn't the same as the silence that he'd shared with Snape, however. He was more comfortable with Professor McGonagall, and knew that she probably wasn't walking next to him hating her life, or wishing that he'd died the other day in the hallway, the way he assumed Snape had been thinking earlier that morning.

He was right-she wasn't thinking any of those things. In fact, Minerva McGonagall was mulling over the conversation she'd had with Dumbledore one month ago, the day he'd confided in her that Harry Potter was cutting himself, when the only other person who knew at the time was Snape.

"_You mean, on purpose? He's doing it on purpose?"_

"_Yes. He's been doing it since the beginning of the summer, although he's told me that he didn't do it for some time after he went to stay at the Burrow." Dumbledore sat down in his high backed chair across from McGonagall._

"_I don't understand. Why would he hurt himself?"_

"_It's a way of coping with your feelings, it's more common amongst Muggles, but I have seen it before. There was Elianna Derwitt, a fourth year Ravenclaw from last term, and Delia Mulligan, a third year Hufflepuff from a few years ago. Both girls were discovered by their friends to be cutting themselves, and they came to me about it. I wrote their parents and explained, and eventually, in both cases, their parents elected to have them return home and seek some counseling." _

"_Do you think that's what should be done with Harry?" McGonagall asked quietly, having a hard time picturing the Potter boy hurting himself on purpose._

"_No. Absolutely not. I could not send Harry back to the Dursleys and away from here, especially for this."_

"_Well, obviously the Dursleys are despicable people, I told you that when you left him there all those years ago." Professor McGonagall had sniffed in disapproval. "But I would like to hear your reasons as to why he shouldn't go back there."_

"_Of course, and there are several. First, if I sent him back there, it's very likely that he would not get the help he was being sent home to receive. Petunia and Vernon Dursley would ignore the boy unless they were yelling at him, and it would only make things worse. He would do even more damage to himself, I am sure of it. Secondly, I would have no way to keep an eye on him. And last, but most importantly, this world and this castle are his home now. He belongs in the Wizarding world, surrounded by all of us, not with his aunt and uncle. I suppose that was always the case. But I could never send Harry back there, the betrayal would be awful."_

"_You're right, of course. But Albus, how are you going to make sure the boy is safe?"_

"_I have spoken with him, and have tried my hardest to impress upon him how much support he truly has here. I will be keeping an eye on him, and I plan on speaking with him at least once a week to check up, and to give him a chance to talk about thing. And if I'm not mistaken, his friends will pick up the slack when I'm not around. They're both very worried about him. I'm giving him a chance to turn things around."_

"_And what if he can't?"_

And there, beside her, shuffling while he walked and staring at his shoes, was her answer. It had turned out that Harry hadn't been able to turn it around, at least not with the amount of freedom he had been given. She'd heard him talking with Ron and Hermione, and she had to agree with him: it did look like he couldn't take much more. He looked...broken. The boy Minerva McGonagall had known last year was very different from the one walking beside her. Last year, he had held his head high, despite everything he had been going through. Despite his battles with Umbridge and fighting for the truth about You-Know-Who to come out, and knowing that the majority of people thought he was a liar. Still, he hadn't looked this upset and overwhelmed. What had changed? Had the loss of Sirius really hit Harry that hard? It appeared that it had.

They crossed the entrance hall and opened the giant double doors, and started walking across the grounds. As the greenhouses came into sight, Harry stopped, a sudden thought sticking in his mind like a thorn. Professor McGonagall stopped too.

"What is it, Potter?" She asked quietly, gently.

"Well, uhm." Harry shifted his weight a little, continuing to stare at the ground, before he finally looked up and met Professor McGonagall's eyes. "Tell Professor Dumbledore...tell him that I'm sorry."

No more words were exchanged between the two. Harry could tell by her eyes that she was slightly upset by what he'd said, and he was, too. He didn't know why he had said it, but he knew he meant it. However, he wasn't just sorry to Dumbledore...he was sorry to everyone.

The rest of the day passed by rather uneventfully. Hermione and Ron went to lunch with him, where he didn't feel like eating much. He drank some pumpkin juice and picked at some steak and kidney pie, but otherwise he just sat there. Hermione urged him to eat, but he just ignored her, hardly saying anything. He was tired of the questions being thrown at him constantly, people asking him how he was feeling, how he was doing, what was going on. He just wanted to be left alone, but it didn't seem like he had much chance for that anymore. He found himself looking strangely forward to bedtime in the hospital wing. Even though he would miss his comfortable four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower, he wouldn't have to deal with walking through the common room and seeing everyone's stares,or have to deal with Ron asking him any questions before he went to sleep. He knew Madam Pomfrey would taking his wand, probably remove everything sharp from the area, and leave him be.

After lunch, he shuffled through two more classes, a silent free period outside where Ron and Hermione tried to coax him into playing a game or at the very least talking to them. He sat staring at the Black Lake, wondering vaguely if his friends would ever give it up. After that they all went to dinner, where he again declined to eat much of anything or speak much, and then they spent the next couple of hours in the library doing homework before he had to go back up to the hospital wing.

Once they were standing outside the door, he turned and gave them a nod. "See you in the morning, then." He said quietly. Hermione gave him another impulsive hug and Ron clapped him on the shoulder before watching as he entered the hospital wing. It was 9:10pm. Madam Pomfrey looked up as he entered and gave him a smile. "Hello, Mr. Potter," she said. He nodded at her and set his backpack down on the ground next to the bed he'd occupied that morning, noticing that his pajamas were laid out there. She bustled over after checking on another student, a first year Hufflepuff who had apparently gotten some sort of head injury, as his entire head was wrapped in gauze and he looked passed out. It was just the two of them in there, and Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm going to need to take your wand for the evening, and your backpack, as well." She said briskly. With no reluctance, as he simply didn't care much, he handed her his wand and then his backpack. "You can change through there," she said, indicating the small bathroom he'd gotten dressed in that morning. He went in and put on his pajamas, staring at himself in the small mirror above the sink. He looked pale, his dark hair standing out against the contrast of his skin, and his green eyes looked surreal. He came back out of the bathroom and turned down the covers of his bed, getting in and sitting there. He felt rather like a small child who was being punished, and being sent to bed early; then again, the whole day had felt very similarly. Madam Pomfrey was busy putting away everything, and after about fifteen minutes, she looked at her watch.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, lights out. Have a nice rest, we'll see you in the morning."

Harry nodded and laid down, his head sinking into the soft pillow as Madam Pomfre turned out the lights with a flick of her wand. She went into her own quarters afterward.

Well, he thought, his first day of his new "schedule" was over. He felt strangely exhausted, seeing as he hadn't done much besides sat there and ignored everyone. He thought about what Sirius had said the other night, about writing him a letter if he was missing him and wanted to tell him something. Sure, he'd never get it, but Harry could pretend, couldn't he? If only Madam Pomfrey hadn't taken his backpack, he could write one. Maybe tomorrow.

As he closed his eyes, he thought about the way he was feeling. He was walling himself off from everyone, partly because he was annoyed at what he was going through and partly because he just wanted to be left alone. Right now, he realized, as he stared at the moon through the giant window, he didn't want to cut. No, he didn't. What he wanted most at that very moment was to simply be gone.


	9. cause you're right don't mean I'm wrong

**A/N: Don't own Harry Potterrrrr, if I did, I would not be writing fanfiction...I'd be doing whatever I wanted because I'd probably be a billionaire. Ahem. Lol. Enjoyyy.**

Harry couldn't sleep, despite his exhaustion. His mind was running at a million miles a minute, and he couldn't slow down enough to pick them apart. All he knew was that he wanted to disappear. Not just physically, because that, actually, was possible if he had his invisibility cloak. He just wanted to be gone. Not dead...or maybe, maybe dead, he wasn't sure. He couldn't think straight. All he knew was that after this day he needed and wanted to sleep, but it didn't seem to be happening. Not anytime soon.

While Harry was trying to sleep, and failing miserably at it, Dumbledore was sitting in his office and wondering whether he should have checked on Harry or not before he went to bed. He heard a knock on his door. "Come in."

Professor McGonagall came inside and offered Dumbledore a slight smile before sitting in a chair across from him. "Good evening, Albus." she said.

"Hello, Minerva. What's on your mind?" Dumbledore asked, sitting back in his chair and peering at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"I just came to talk with you about Potter...about Harry." She said quietly. "I'm very concerned about him, Albus."

"I know, I know...how did he seem today in class? How did it go?" He asked, shuffling the papers around on his desk absentmindedly.

"To be honest, he seemed miserable. You know already that the whole school found out about him, and the class spent the entire period whispering about him and looking at him. I tried to make the lesson easy today, we did a refresher on Vanishing spells and the only one who made any progress was, unsurprisingly, Hermione. I walked him down to Herbology and he just seemed so unhappy. He didn't say a word until he stopped me and asked me to tell you something for him. He wanted me to tell you that he's sorry."

Dumbledore looked up at her and for a second, he didn't have a single thing to say. "He said he was sorry?"

"Yes. That's all he said, not for what, but I think it's safe to assume that he's sorry for hurting himself. He probably feels like he's let everyone down. It...well, it broke my heart, seeing him like that." Minerva said.

"I feel the same. I want him to be safe, that's why I am doing all of this, but I'm still very worried about him." Dumbledore was afraid for him and the hole Harry was caught in, one of his own device and making. "I think it's time I looked into finding someone who Harry can talk to. Maybe I should've done this a month ago."

"I think so," Professor McGonagall said quietly.

Harry spent a very sleepless night in the hospital wing. He finally dozed off in the early hours of the morning, but it felt as if he had just dropped off into sleep when he was being woken by Madame Pomfrey.

"It's time to get up, Mr. Potter! Breakfast is soon, and I believe Professor Dumbledore is coming to see you beforehand."

"I don't want to get up." He said stubbornly, shoving his face into his pillow and turning over. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or maybe yesterday had been a fluke, but he no longer wanted to be apathetic and accepting of this entirely different lifestyle that Dumbledore had thrust upon him. He'd been caged up, like some weird animal at the zoo, and yesterday had been proof of just that. All of the people in his classes and in the hallways and in the Great Hall staring at him, whispering. It wasn't like he was a convicted felon, or he'd suddenly sprouted six extra heads and a tail overnight.

"You have five minutes, Harry Potter, or you're really going to be in trouble." Madame Pomfrey said, her voice icy as she walked away to check on the Hufflepuff boy across from Harry. He rolled his eyes and ignored her, keeping his face smushed into his pillow. Madame Pomfrey continued to try and wake him up, but he continued to ignore her, half drifting back into sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the big double doors of the hospital wing open up, and he figured it was Dumbledore. There was a moment's silence, where the only noise was footsteps across the big room, then:

"Is Harry stll in bed, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked with a puzzled sound in his voice.

"Yes, he refuses to get up. I'm sorry, Albus, I did my best. Up you get, boy, you're alright to go to classes. Come on," she said the last part to the boy across from Harry.

Harry heard a screech as a chair was dragged next to his bed. "Harry? It's time to get up, classes commence soon and you'll need to eat some breakfast." He heard Dumbledore say. Reluctantly Harry rolled over and faced him, feeling a sour look come onto his face.

"I am not getting up. I'm not going to breakfast. I'm not going to classes. And I'm certainly not going to be dragged from class to class by a 'chaperone'." Harry said angrily, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Dumbledore asked simply. "You seem rather upset about something."

Harry let out an angry groan, one that clearly conveyed total annoyance. "I'm so sick of you being so calm about everything! Yes, I'm upset...obviously. I know yesterday I took this lying down, but I'm not doing that anymore. This is totally ridiculous."

"Tell me why you think this is ridiculous." Dumbledore said.

"Look. I'm not going to be treated like I'm a...a mass murderer anymore, or somebody mad who's liable to run around stabbing everyone around me. I'm not a loose cannon and I can be trusted to walk myself to my classes and to meals. I cut myself. I know it's not the best way to deal with things, but it is my body and my decisions. You can't keep me locked up forever. The only person I pose a danger to is-"

"Yourself." Dumbledore said quietly. "And that's precisely the reason why I've put all of these restrictions and limitations on you. I'm not going to lie to you, Harry, and pretend that I'm an expert on how to deal with this. I have only come across cases like these once or twice before and I've never dealt with it so close to me before." He looked up at him, blue eyes meeting green. "I don't know the right way to go about this. All that I do know is that it's keeping you safe, and stopping you from cutting. I don't know if it's helping you in any other way, or if it's doing more harm than good. All I'm asking is that you give this a chance for a little while."

Harry thought for a moment about what Dumbledore had just said. It was true...cutting was not something that was widely done in the Wizarding world. It wasn't surprising that this was new to both of them, but even more so to Dumbledore. But was it too much to ask of him, to let people keep him cooped up like he was totally mad, insane, like if he was left alone for a full minute than he'd find the nearest knife and slit his wrists wide open? He thought about how he had felt the day before-like he wasn't even there. Like he was just floating along for the ride and everyone else was steering him in whichever direction they chose. That was just as bad, if not worse, than the way he felt when he wanted to cut.

He kept silent for a few more moments, so Dumbledore said, "I've begun to look for someone for you to speak with, and I'm hoping I find someone soon. A Healer, who's specialized in talking with people about their problems. Once you begin seeing someone, I'll be able to let up on the security a bit. It's just for now, Harry, I've told you that. It's not forever."

"Fine. But I am not going to classes today." He said stubbornly. He apparently couldn't win the fight for his freedom, and he was soon going to be subjected to talking about his personal thoughts with a perfect stranger, but he could stick to his guns about this. He felt slightly like a little kid, using this one thing as a bargaining tool, but he didn't care.

"How did you sleep last night?" Dumbledore asked him, noticing the bags underneath his eyes and how pale he was.

"Horribly. I was just getting to sleep when she woke me up," he said, nodding in Madame Pomfrey's direction.

As much as Dumbledore didn't want to give in, he also wasn't sure he had enough energy inside him to fight with Harry about going to class today. They both were tired and had had sleepless nights, most likely for similar reasons, and he thought Harry needed some rest. "Fine, you make excuse yourself from classes to get some rest, but only for today. This isn't going to become a regular thing. I'm going to see about finding someone for you to speak with. I'll see you later, Harry." Dumbledore patted the boy on his arm and then went to tell Madame Pomfrey that Harry would be staying in from classes for the day and was only to be allowed to leave to do homework in the library with Ron and Hermione, if they came by later.

Harry laid back down in bed after exchanging a bitter look with Madame Pomfrey, who clearly was under the impression that Dumbledore was being too soft with him. He didn't really care, right now he just needed a nap and then he'd see about trying to weasel his way out for a walk to the library or the grounds on his normal free period with his friends. He had some things to tell them.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had stopped off for a bit of breakfast and gently told Ron and Hermione what was going on with Harry, telling them they were more than welcome to look in on him if need be on their free period. After eating some sausages and toast, and drinking some pumpkin juice, he went outside and Apparated to London, where he arrived outside of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He stepped inside, and once he was at the receptionist's desk, he described the situation and she directed him to the fifth floor.

Alexander Mullivan was a tall, thin man with dark brown hair and olive green eyes, and he was wearing robes of royal blue. He shook hands with Dumbledore and smiled. "It's an absolute pleasure to meet you, Professor Dumbledore. I've heard many wonderful things. What seems to be the trouble?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, as well. I have a student at Hogwarts who, we have discovered, has been cutting himself. He's extremely depressed over the recent death of a loved one and many other things, I'm sure. We discovered this about a month ago, and he stopped for a while, but he apparently started doing it again, and he went too deeply a week ago and almost died. I've got him under tight security now, to make sure he can't harm himself, but my search to find him someone to talk to, to help him sort through his issues, has lead me here. To you. Do you think you might be able to help him?"

Alex scratched his chin. "It's certainly worth a try. I've met with several young witches and wizards recently who self-harm. I'd like to try and help this boy. We could meet a couple of times a week, perhaps Mondays and Wednesdays. What's his name, by the way?"

Dumbledore looked at him and said with a tired smile on his face, "Harry. Harry Potter."


	10. Burn out like a torch

**A/N: I still don't own Harryyyy Potterrr.**

After Dumbledore left him to go to breakfast and then, apparently, to look for a therapist for him, Harry laid back in bed and threw the covers over his head. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on going back to sleep. His head was full after his visit with Dumbledore, but unlike last night, his total exhaustion won over his brain's need to pick apart what had just happened to him. Within ten minutes, he'd fallen into a deep sleep. For once, he didn't have terrible dreams that caused him to toss and turn, but he was able to sink into nothingness, something he was blissfully happy about.

He didn't wake up until a few hours later, when he heard a furious, albeit quiet, fight going on next to him.

"Really, Ron, we shouldn't stay, he needs his rest."

"He's not sick or anything, is he?"

"Honestly, don't you listen to anything anyone says, even Dumbledore? He _said_ that Harry was staying in from classes today because he didn't sleep well last night and needed some more rest. He didn't say he was sick."

"Blimey, d'you have to jump down my throat about everything-"

"I'm sleeping, not dead, you guys. I can still wake up you know," Harry said, rolling over and looking at his friends, who were standing next to his bed.

"Sorry, mate. We didn't mean to wake you, we'll just go." Ron said quietly, touching Hermione's arm lightly and turning.

"No, don't go. I want to see you guys." Harry said, sitting up and running his hands through his unruly hair. "I have stuff to tell you. But can we get out of here? Tell Madame Pomfrey we're going to the library to do homework...Dumbledore said I could leave for that." He said the last part in a hushed whisper. Hermione gave him a scolding look which clearly said that she didn't approve of lying to get him out of the hospital wing. "Oh, go on, Hermione. She'll believe you, and we can go to the library so we won't be lying. I want to go for a walk, please?"

"Fine," she said with a huff, and she went over to Madame Pomfrey. At first she was shaking her head back and forth, but after a little cajoling from Hermione, she reluctantly agreed and handed over Harry's backpack and wand to her. Harry grabbed his clothes from his nightstand where Madame Pomfrey had restacked them after he had refused to go to classes, and went to change. Ten minutes later, he was strolling out of the hospital wing with his friends, promising Madame Pomfrey he'd be back within the hour.

As soon as they were safely away, Harry said, "So I sort of lost it on Dumbledore this morning."

"What do you mean, you lost it on him?" Ron asked.

"Like I went a bit mad. I yelled at him and told him I couldn't do...this anymore, and that he was treating me like I'm some psychopath and I wasn't going to let him control me like this."

"No, you didn't," Ron said breathlessly, while Hermione just looked outraged, as if she couldn't believe that Harry would be so bold as to talk to the headmaster of Hogwarts like that.

"Yeah, I did. I meant it, too, I can't stand the thought of another day like this. But he said he's not letting go and he's going to do everything in his power to 'keep me safe', which translates to 'locked up like an animal'." He said gloomily. "Supposedly he's finding me someone to talk to and then he'll let up on the security or whatever. I'm just going bonkers already, I can't imagine what a week or two will do to me."

By then the trio had reached the library, and Hermione was holding the giant door handle, about to open it. She let it go, however, and turned back to look at him. "Listen, Harry," she said in a quiet voice, and he could tell it was taking a lot of courage for her to say whatever she was about to say, "maybe you ought not to fight him on this. I know I said it briefly before but what if this the right thing for you? Yes, it will be hard to be so closely watched, but it's for your own safety and like Dumbledore said, it won't be forever, it'll give everyone peace of mind..."

Harry glared at her coldly. He was hearing everything she had to say, and he knew she was right, but that didn't stop it from annoying him, among other feelings. "You know, just for once I didn't want you to be sensible Hermione. I wanted you to tell me that I was right to be upset about being on lockdown. But you couldn't give that to me, could you?"

"Harry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything bad by it!"

"Yeah, I know, but I wanted you to tell me that it sucks! I don't want to hear that I'm a danger to myself and if I'm left alone I could go off the deep end! And who cares about everyone else's peace of mind? I'd like a little of that, for once. Just a little." Ron had been standing behind Harry, quietly watching the scene between the two of them and wondering whether or not he should say anything to break it up. With one last contemptible look thrown at Hermione, Harry turned away from her, and the library, and ran. He heard his friends calling his name and the sound of their feet running after him, but he didn't stop. He darted down corridors, blowing past people who were looking at him curiously. He could feel even more of his freedom slipping away, his chances of spending free periods with his friends would be gone when Dumbledore found out about this, but he didn't care.

For a while, he had no clue where he was running to, but he found himself in front of the place that would give him what he needed and wanted. He was outside of the stone gargoyle that lead to Dumbledore's office, and with him gone finding Harry someone to talk to, it would be empty. He wanted his invisibility cloak, because he was leaving the castle. He didn't know where he would go or what he would do, but he'd figure something out. It wasn't as if he had any parents to yell at him for quitting school-this decision was his.

"Acid pops!" He shouted at the gargoyle, but it remained still. The password had obviously been changed. He ran through a list of possible passwords, and shouted them all out in turn. "Lemon drops! Fizzing whizbees! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! Cauldron cakes! Treacle tart!" Nothing was working. The complete unfairness of it, the fact that he couldn't have this one thing he desperately wanted, was killing him. He felt angry tears stinging in his eyes. "I WANT MY INVISIBILITY CLOAK!" He yelled at the ever-still gargoyle, and he hit it with his fists. The hot tears came down and he wiped at them angrily. He refused to cry over this. He would find a way to get that cloak, he would...

"Harry Potter," he heard his name being spoken in a soft voice, and he turned around reluctantly and sank to the floor. Professor McGonagall was coming toward him quickly. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I want my invisibility cloak, I want to get out of here." He said.

"Oh, Potter." She said, looking down at the angry boy who was sitting at her feet, who had tears in his otherwise fiery eyes and looked as if he could set the world on fire. The boy who was symbolized hope for the entire Wizarding world, who had so much to live up to and who was an amazing young man, but who was also breaking apart right in front of her. "How can I help you, Harry? Please tell me." She said softly.

Harry remained seated at her feet. "Give me my invisibility cloak so I can get as far away from this as I can." He said.

"You can't go. There's too much here for you, things you can't even comprehend yet."

The truth was, he didn't want to leave Hogwarts. Hogwarts was his home. It was the first place he had ever felt loved and accepted and he never wanted to leave that. But because of Dumbledore, because of his inability to cope with his emotions other than bleeding them out, this home of his had become a prison. He said nothing in response to Professor McGonagall, who, by now, had tears in her eyes as well.

He heard more footsteps striding down the hall towards them, and Harry looked up. Dumbedore was walking towards him and Professor McGonagall, but he wasn't alone. A tall, dark haired man in royal blue robes was with him, a man who was already studying Harry, even from the distance. He felt like he was being watched by him, and it felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Who is that?" He asked Professor McGonagall quietly, but it was her turn to say nothing. Dumbledore came over to them and kneeled down, looking at Harry.

"Harry, are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine," he said irritably, knowing that question wasn't going anywhere but nevertheless, he was quite annoyed by it.

"What's happened?"

"NOTHING." He said exasperatedly, shoving himself to his feet and looking past Dumbledore's shoulder. "Who's that?" He asked, not caring much if he came across as rude.

"Oh, yes. Introductions. Harry, this is Alexander Mullivan. He's a Healer and he's going to be speaking with you twice a week. Alexander, meet Harry Potter."

The man in the royal blue robes stepped forward and extended his hand. "You can call me Alex. It's wonderful to meet you. Do you want to have a chat, get to know each other a little better?"

Harry shook Alex's hand and considered him for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure if he was going to like the man, but on the other hand, this was the first step towards getting his freedom back. He knew he had to do this.

"Sure. I mean, I guess. Yeah."


	11. Staring into the intersection

Harry's head was buzzing, the feeling of wanting to be gone from this situation overwhelming him. He had agreed to have a 'chat' with Alexander Mullivan (whatever that entailed), but he looked at Dumbledore before following him down the hallway. Dumbledore nodded and smiled, giving Harry a bit of silent encouragement, and with that, he followed down the corridor.

"It's really nice to meet you," Alex said to Harry as they walked, and Harry wondered vaguely if this guy had a destination or a room in mind, or if he was just going to stop somewhere randomly.

"You, too," Harry said quietly, deciding that he would at least attempt to be polite for the moment. He really didn't feel like starting off this whole thing on a bad note, even if he thought it would probably end up on one.

"Here looks about good, I believe Dumbledore said this room would do." Alex said, pushing tentatively on the door of a room near the end of the corridor. It was empty, devoid of anything except an old chalkboard. There weren't even any desks or chairs. "Well, this looks cozy." He said with a laugh, and then he conjured up two armchairs next to each other, and, as an afterthought, a sofa right across from it. "Take your pick." Predictably, Harry sat down on the couch, and Alex sat it one of the armchairs across from him. "So...why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure you and everyone else knows at least enough about me to write a small newspaper article. You don't really need me to tell you about myself."

Alex shrugged. "I just met you. I know a little bit about you...but I'd like to hear it coming from you."

Harry sighed, thinking for a moment. The truth was, he'd never been asked to describe himself. As he had said, everyone already knew what he was like, knew who he was, or so they thought. "Okay...I'm 16. I like to play Quidditch. I'm the captain of the Gryffindor team and I'm the Seeker and I've been playing since my first year. It's pretty much the only thing that makes me happy anymore and I haven't been able to do it in a while," he said bitterly. "My favorite subject is Defense Against the Dark Arts, and my least favorite is Potions, but that was mostly because of Snape. But he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts now so I try and forget about that. I want to be an Auror. I have two really good friends, Ron and Hermione...they've stuck by my side through everything. I'm really lucky to have them. Uhm...I'm not sure what else there is to say. Oh, and my parents were killed by Lord Voldemort when I was one but for some reason I survived him trying to kill me. It's something of a mystery but it gave me this nifty scar." He said in a snarky voice, pushing his hair aside and revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

Alex chuckled a little. "I'll admit, the scar/You-Know-Who stuff I was already privy to, but none of the other stuff. I'm not much into sports but I do enjoy the occasional Quidditch match. So what inspired you to want to become an Auror?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It's the only thing I've ever considered doing, I'm pretty sure I'd be good at it. I'm not sure what else I could do."

"An Auror is nothing to scoff at as far as professions go, but anything's possible if you put your mind to it."

At that, Harry had a hard time not rolling his eyes. He had just met this man 20 minutes ago and he was already getting motivational speeches. _You promised to give this a shot...you promised to give this a shot_...he kept repeating over and over in his brain. There was a few minutes of silence, a rather uncomfortable silence. Harry started jiggling his foot, feeling nervous. He didn't know it, but Alex was feeling rather nervous, too. He had quite a bit more experience with self-harm and therapy than Dumbledore did, but whenever he was talking to someone new, especially when that person was Harry Potter, he was always nervous. He didn't know Harry, he didn't know what he would respond to or what would bother him, or make him feel more uncomfortable, or what might set him off. However, his main goal was to help Harry, and he couldn't do that without at least asking about his problems, and then he could see where they would go from there.

Alex cleared his throat. "Well, Professor Dumbledore told me that you've had a lot going on lately."

Harry looked up. "You could say that."

"He also said that you lost someone very close to you fairly recently and have had some rather...overwhelming feelings."

Harry nodded. "My godfather, Sirius." He said quietly.

"I'm sorry." Harry nodded, staring down at his hands again. "He also said you've been dealing with those feelings in a way that's, well, less than desirable." Alex said.

"I guess you could say that, too." Without realizing it, Harry had started gripping his left wrist tightly. He saw Alex's eyes shift and look at him, at his hand, and he let go. Harry looked away from Alex, looking the blank blackboard across the room.

After a few more moments of silence, Alex said gently, almost in an off-hand way, "When did you start cutting?"

"Over the summer." Harry said stiffly. "I stopped for a little while but I started again a few weeks ago. It's the second time I've gotten caught and now Professor Dumbledore has me under pretty much constant 'supervision'."

"He wants to make sure you're safe." Alex said. "He told me last week you kind of got yourself into a bit of trouble with it and you could have died."

"I know. But he doesn't realize that it's not only suffocating me, but it makes me feel even more like I'm crazy. Maybe I am, because sometimes I wish I _had_ died last week." For some reason, Harry could feel these things tumbling out of his mouth, things he hadn't planned on telling Alex. What he had planned on doing was bluffing his way through these sessions, telling this guy only as much as was absolutely necessary, even if he had promised himself and Dumbledore that he'd give this a chance. But he found it strangely comforting speaking those words aloud, even though he wasn't sure why he could say it to Alex, when he couldn't even say it to his best friends.

"Harry, if you're comfortable answering this...have you ever thought about suicide?" Alex asked, hoping that this question wasn't the one that sent Harry out of control and out of his reach. He hoped it wasn't overstepping his boundaries.

"Maybe. Once in a while. Mostly over the summer when I first started." he said, remembering those moments during the summer when he really and truly wanted to die. The loss of Sirius had been so fresh and it had hurt so bad. Not that it hurt any less when he thought about it now, but back then, it was all he thought about, and the more he thought, the worse he felt, and the more alone he was. There had been a few times where he'd wanted to die, but never as strongly as those dark nights alone in his room at the Dursley's.

Alex nodded, a part of his heart aching for this boy. He could see the raw pain and emotion behind Harry's eyes. He imagined the boy was reliving those feelings, remembering what it felt like. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do, even though he hadn't made up his mind before about whether he should.

"Can I show you something, Harry?" he asked, and with a puzzled look on his face, Harry nodded. Alex pushed up the sleeve of his blue robe, revealing his arm to Harry. There were slightly faded scars climbing up and down his arm. Some were almost gone, faded with time, while others, mostly the thick, deep ones, were still very visible. Harry's eyes widened at the sight; it was worse than what his arm looked like.

"Did you-?" Harry asked quietly, unable to finish his sentence, but Alex understood.

"Yes. I did. And I'm proud to say that it's been over 18 years since I last hurt myself." Alex said, looking at Harry, who looked up and met his eye. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said, swallowing past the lump in his throat. And he had thought _his_ arm looked bad and was something people might stare at. "What happened? I mean, can you tell me?" He asked inquisitively.

Alex smiled a little. This was why he had shown him-the look of isolation and loneliness had-perhaps unknown to him-left Harry's eyes when he'd rolled up his sleeve. Right now, the boy needed to know that he wasn't alone, that he wasn't the only one who had done this...and that the man sitting across from him had a personal interest in what was going on.

"I don't mind talking to you about it, if that's what you mean. Whether or not I _should_ talk to you about it, well, many people would have different opinions about that, but I think it's okay. The first time I self-harmed, I was 14 years old, and I was here, at Hogwarts. I had spent the better part of the last almost 4 years being picked on and humiliated on a near-daily basis; I was the nerdy, more-than-chubby kid that was a very easy target for bullies. It had always bothered me, but I had other things going on in my third year; my parents were splitting up, and one day I got to feeling so bad that I sat in the bathroom, holding a razor blade." Alex paused for a moment, remembering the boy who sat in that bathroom, how he had been completely desperate for anything that would make him feel better. Then he wondered if Harry had felt that same way.

Deep breath. "After that, there wasn't really any turning back for me. Things changed, as they so often tend to do when you're a teenager. I grew several inches and thinned out some. I was still picked on, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. My parents split up, and even though they still fought when they saw each other, things were much better when they were apart. But even though things had gotten better, I was still depressed a lot, and the only thing that made me feel better-whenever I was sad, mad, or upset at all-was cutting. And even though I was doing it nearly every day, I managed to go 2 years without anyone finding out. I guess I was just really good at hiding it." Alex said.

Harry was sitting back on the couch, listening to Alex's story. He was having a hard time picturing the man in front of him as a teenager with similar things going on as him. "How did you hide it for 2 years? And who found out?"

"Hey, I'm not handing out advice about how to keep cutting, okay? Let's just say I spent a lot of time alone among other things. And the person who found out eventually was my father. I was home for the summer before my 6th year, and he walked in on me doing it in my bedroom. I guess I just got careless after a while."

"What did he do?" Harry asked quietly. "Did he lose it?"

"At first he did. He yelled at me for a while about how he didn't understand it, and he wanted me to explain to him why and he called my mother. It was a mess for a few days. My mother had no idea what to do, her ideas ranged from dragging me home to live with her, to finding some way to have me locked in St. Mungo's for the rest of my days, to not letting me return to Hogwarts. Eventually my Dad told her that he would handle it. My father sat me down and made me talk...for hours. About why I did it, about what I felt, about everything. It might sound like torture right now-" Alex said with a chuckle, noticing the way Harry shuddered involuntarily at the thought, "-but I think my 16 year old self had been waiting for the opportunity to let it all out, and I felt a lot better. Then my father did something amazing for me. He told me that he was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to stop right away, but he was always there for me to talk to. He let me make my own mistakes, and I definitely did make mistakes. It took a while, but eventually I worked through it."

A couple minutes after he was done, Harry said quietly, "I'm worried that if I stop, I won't have anything left to make me feel better, because it's what's worked for a while."

"It's not crazy for you to feel like that, Harry. But I want to be that person for you...the one who helps you through this."

"I don't know if I can tell you everything yet," Harry said quickly.

"And that's okay. But maybe one day you can." Alex said.

"Yeah. Maybe. Thanks for, um, telling me all that stuff. I kind of feel a little bit better, and I'm not even sure why." He said, laughing a little bit.

Alex smiled. "I'm glad." Then he looked down at the watch on his wrist and said, "Well, it's been about an hour...unfortunately I have to get going, I've got an appointment in a little bit, but I was thinking the same time on Wednesday? Does that work for you?"

"That should be okay." Harry said, standing up and leaving the room with Alex. Professor Dumbledore was walking past on the way to his office, and he looked over when the door opened.

"Oh, Harry! How's everything going?"

"Fine," Harry said, scuffing his toe against the ground. His stomach rumbled a little bit, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Why don't you go on down to dinner, I believe your friends are down there." Dumbledore said.

"By myself?" Harry asked with a surprised tone in his voice.

Dumbledore hesitated, but he met Alex's eyes and saw the man give him a tiny nod. With a sigh, Dumbledore said, "Yes, by yourself."

"Okay. Bye, Alex, see you Wednesday." Harry said, waving and taking off down the hallway before Dumbledore could change his mind about allowing him to be on his own. He hoped Ron and Hermione were still down in the Great Hall, he had a lot to tell them, and he probably owed them an apology for what he'd said this morning.

As Harry was walking away, Dumbledore looked over at Alex. "So, how did it go?" He asked.

Alex shrugged. "Pretty well, I think. I'm hoping that in time he'll open up a little bit more, but I think our first session went good. But there is something I'd like to talk with you about."

"Let's go to my office," Dumbledore said, but Alex stopped him.

"I can't, I really have to get going, I've got another appointment soon. But I really think it would be good for Harry if you let up a little on the supervision. I know you're worried about him, but keeping him sheltered isn't doing anything except making him more depressed. Feeling like he had no control is part of the reason that he started this in the first place, so to take more of his control away won't help." Alex said.

"Do you really think it's doing more harm than good?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm not saying let him run amok, but let him walk himself to classes, let him go to meals on his own. I don't think it's wrong to keep his invisibility cloak, but maybe consider letting him sleep in Gryffindor Tower again." Alex said. "Now I really have to go, but I'll see you and Harry on Wednesday. Have a good day." he said with a pleasant smile and then he shook Dumbledore's hand and turned and walked down the hallway.

Dumbledore sighed. He knew what Alex said was right, because Harry himself had expressed something similar earlier that day. But he didn't know if he was ready to let go of the reins. He didn't know if he was ready to let Harry go and make his own mistakes, because he was afraid of the consequences.

**A/N: This chapter was kind of difficult to write, because I'm not that familiar with the therapy aspect of self-harm. I think I liked how it turned out though. :]**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First of all, I apologize for the two links you guys were emailed for the new chapter...I accidentally put chapter 12 of this story as another chapter from my other story...deleted the chapter and put this up instead. Sorry if there was any confusion! This is the right chapter, I hope it has fixed itself by the time most get to reading it as I published in the middle of the night lol.**

**So I have no idea how I want this story to end yet...but I already have ideas in mind for a sequel. I know, right? Talk about getting ahead of myself lmao. So my question to you, my faithful readers, is whether I should just continue with this story, or make a separate sequel? Would you guys Author Alert me so you could read it? Lemme know! :D**

**PS. I don't own Harry Potter!**

Harry walked slowly down to the Great Hall, enjoying his freedom. It was nice to be on his own for once, and even though it hadn't been that long since Dumbledore imposed his new rules, it felt like a lifetime. He wound his way down the corridors, ignoring the strange looks he got from the people he passed. He was nearly in the entrance hall when he remembered the fight he'd had with Hermione. This afternoon seemed like a million years ago, he had so much to think about after his session with Alex, but everything came flooding back to him-how she told him she thought all of the restrictions placed on him might be a good thing; how he had yelled at her and said he needed someone on his side right now; how he had run away from her and Ron and tried desperately to get into Dumbledore's office and steal his invisibility cloak, to get as far away from all of this as he could. It hadn't worked, obviously, but he was feeling much better than he had that afternoon. And he was starving.

He walked into the Great Hall silently, once again ignoring the turned heads and the whispers about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Cut. He walked over to Ron and Hermione, who looked up at him, shocked, and sat down next to them. He grabbed a plate and some food and started eating, choosing to say nothing. He knew one of them would break the silence before long.

"Um, Harry?" It was Ron, which was something of a surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating dinner," Harry said simply.

"No, I mean...we thought..." Ron said before being interrupted by Hermione.

"What we _thought_ was that after your _horrible_ display of immaturity and overreaction this afternoon, you'd be under lock and key in the hospital wing for the rest of your days." Hermione said angrily, her eyes shooting daggers at Harry. He sighed and rolled his eyes a little.

"I know I was stupid this afternoon, but honestly Hermione, I don't want anyone telling me that it's for my own good, especially my best friends. One, because it's not. And two, because I just want people that are on my side."

"Honestly? You want _honesty_, Harry?" Hermione set her fork down and looked at him. "I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings, but honestly, I feel like you're being a little bit selfish. You have no idea what it's like watching your best friend struggle like this and knowing that you can't fix it, knowing that if he really wanted to, he would find a way to not wake up the next morning. So _pardon me_ if I don't support the idea of letting you sneak off and continue cutting. Excuse me." She said, standing up and walking quickly out of the Great Hall, leaving behind two boys with shocked looks on their faces.

"What just happened?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. Do you agree with her?" He asked Ron quietly.

Ron groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was have this conversation.

"Answer me," Harry said angrily.

"I do on some things. I mean, it is really hard seeing you like this. The feeling helpless thing will kill you. But I don't know if selfish is accurate." Ron avoided looking at him.

"Yeah, well. I met my new therapist today and we had our first session. His name is Alex. I thought I was going to completely hate it but it was kind of nice letting all of this stuff go." Harry said.

"So you guys just sit there and talk for an hour? And it helps?" Ron asked, as he was rather unfamiliar with the concept of therapy.

"Yeah. He told me that he used to...know somebody who cut and that's why he wanted to work with me. He wanted to see if he could help me stop." Harry had intended to tell Ron (and Hermione, before she had revealed her true feelings and left him speechless) about Alex's past, but he had changed his mind at the last second. Even though he knew it probably wouldn't bother him, and even though he knew it had been over 18 years since the last time Alex had done it, it felt wrong telling Ron. It almost felt like he and Alex shared a secret, and he didn't want to break his trust.

"Oh. Well, that's good, right? Are you glad you have to talk to him?" Ron asked.

"I don't know if glad is the right word...but it's not as awful as I thought it would be." He pushed his food around on his plate and then said, "I want you to know that I'm sorry. For all of it. I didn't mean to be selfish, if I was. And I'm going to try to stop for good. I wish I had the chance to tell Hermione that before she went off on me." He said quietly, setting his fork down.

"She'll come around," Ron said cheerfully, but Harry wasn't so sure. He didn't think she would right away, anyways. He had suddenly lost his appetite, and he pushed his plate away.

"I have so much homework that I haven't done. Did you finish that essay on..." Harry wracked his brain, "...on I can't even remember what for Herbology?"

"Oh, you mean the moonstone dung? Yeah. It was actually due this afternoon," Ron said, lightly. Harry groaned loudly. "I'm sure Professor Sprout will give you an extension!"

"Yeah, but only because I'm the crazy kid...I really don't want to be the crazy kid anymore," Harry said miserably.

"You're working on it, aren't you?" Ron said teasingly, but he stopped when he saw the miserable look on Harry's face. "Come on, let's go to the library and work on homework. Take your mind off things." Harry looked up surprisingly, thinking that that was the first, last and only time he'd ever hear Ron suggest doing homework.

Harry and Ron spent the next couple of hours hard at work, or at least trying to be hard at work. Harry felt better with his Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework done, and even though he was still behind in Potions, Charms and Herbology, he tried to concentrate on the positives. Before he knew it, it was time for his 'curfew' and he was back in the hospital wing. He and Madame Pomfrey exchanged a curt nod, and he came over and handed her his backpack and wand, but not before taking out his Herbology textbook. He could at least try and get some reading done before bed.

"Sorry about earlier," he muttered to her, feeling bad about the way he had totally disregarded what she had said that morning.

"It's alright, Mr. Potter. Pajamas are on your bed. Just get some rest tonight, okay?" She said in a kind voice, quite unlike her usual brisk manner. He nodded, went and changed, and climbed into bed. He flipped open his book to the sections on moonstone dung and started reading, not knowing that somewhere else in the castle, his future was being mulled over by a very conflicted Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was pacing in his office back and forth and wondering if he should listen to Alex. Well, the time for listening to him was past. If Alex had his way, Albus would have gone to the Great Hall and told Harry that he was allowed to return to his normal schedule as soon as he left. But he just wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He had talked to Harry, and he had talked to the man whose job it was to represent Harry's best interests. Both of them knew that the right thing to do was to let go of the reins and to give Harry more freedom. Slowly, he had come to the realization that they were both right.

But still, Dumbledore hadn't been able to make himself go downstairs and tell Harry to go back to his normal routine. Something was stopping him. Dumbledore wasn't used to being indecisive; when he knew something was right, he acted on it. But he knew that if he let go of the supervision on Harry, the boy was probably going to make mistakes, and a horrible, tiny voice in the back of his head said that even if Harry was miserable, at least he was safe. At least he would know the boy was safe. He tried to push that thought out of his mind; he was only doing this for Harry's own good, after all!

Or maybe he just needed to have the control.

_Breakbreakbreak_

The next day was rather uneventful, aside from the fact that Hermione somehow found a way to avoid Harry all day. She sat across the room from him in her lessons, and left he and Ron to eat their meals alone. Harry tried to go up to her in their first class, but she just turned and walked away. He felt miserable about it all day, but there wasn't anything he could do, and Ron at least stuck by him.

The next day, after lunch, Harry was getting ready to head to his next class with Ron when he heard his name being called. He looked around and saw Alex standing near the front doors. "That's Alex." He said to Ron, who nodded.

"Guess you're not coming to class?"

"I guess not. Maybe I am, I don't know. I'll see you later, though." Harry said, ad walked over to Alex. People were giving the two of them some strange looks, because no one had seen him there before, but in general, people kept walking. "Hi," Harry said to him.

"Afternoon. Is it okay if we talk again?" Alex asked, and Harry nodded. "Excellent. Same place as last time, I believe it's just up the stairs and down the corridor a ways."

Once they were situated in the same classroom as before, Harry in the same spot on the couch, Alex leaned back. "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm okay, I guess." Harry said with a shrug.

"Did something happen?"

"Kind of. Well, yeah. Monday after we talked I went downstairs to eat diner with my friends, Ron and Hermione...have I told you about them?" Harry asked.

"Briefly, I believe last session."

"Oh. Well, Hermione is really smart, she's the best in our year, by far, but she's kind of...difficult, sometimes? I mean, she's wonderful, we'd be lost without her, but still. And Ron is my best mate, he can be kind of thick sometimes but he's funny and he listens to me when I need him to. We're all a bit different but it works for us. Well, anyways..." the words were tumbling out of Harry's mouth again, as if he'd been waiting for someone to tell this to. He told Alex about Hermione's outburst and how she hadn't been speaking to him since then.

"It sounds like Hermione's been having a hard time with all of this. Now what you have to think about is whether she's mad at you, or if she's upset about the idea of maybe losing you to this. From what I've heard, the last time you cut was really dangerous...she could have lost you."

"She called me selfish," he said quietly, the one piece he'd left out of his story, the one part he'd been afraid to say aloud.

"Do you think you're selfish?" Alex asked him gently, not wanting to upset him.

"Maybe. I kind of do. I mean, if I wasn't selfish, I would see that this is hurting my friends and I would be able to stop, no problem. Doesn't that make me selfish?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry. That just means that somewhere in your head, things aren't making sense. Something up there doesn't want to let go of what made you feel okay for the first time, and that's, strange as it might sound, normal. Hermione will come around, maybe try talking to her again." Alex assured him.

"I didn't get a chance to tell her that I'm talking to you and I'm trying. Maybe if she knew that I'm trying to find other ways than cutting to feel okay, she wouldn't be so mad at me. I mean, if I was still sleeping in Gryffindor Tower, I would have a chance to corner her in the common room, but I don't have a spare second-"

"Has Professor Dumbledore let up at all on the restrictions?" Alex asked suddenly, interrupting Harry.

He looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. "No. Not really. He did let me go to dinner on my own Monday night but all day yesterday it was the same. Was he supposed to?" Harry asked eagerly.

Alex sighed a little, making a mental note to cut their session short a few moments to talk to Dumbledore again. "Never mind. So tell me a little bit about school..."

45 minutes later, Alex leaned back in his chair and looked at his watch. "Time's about up. I'll be back on Friday, if that's alright with you." A bell rang somewhere in the distance. "What class do you have now? I'll walk you there."

After walking with Harry to his History of Magic class, Alex turned and went back up to Dumbledore's office, hoping the man was there. He gave the correct password, stepped on the stone gargoyle, and went up. He knocked sharply on the door, and heard Dumbledore's voice say, "Enter."

"Hello, Mr. Mullivan. Have you met with Harry yet today? Please, have a seat." Alex obliged him and sat down.

"Yes, I just brought Harry to his History of Magic classroom. Things went well today, he's starting to open up to me, which I'm thrilled about...but there's a few things you and I need to discuss." Alex said.

"What's that?" Dumbledore said.

"Well, for starters, we need to talk about what we talked about last time. I really can't impress upon you the damage the complete amount of control you have over Harry's every move is doing to him. I can't say for certain, but it's of my professional opinion that he's more depressed because of it, and it only makes him want to self-harm more, which is only hurting his recovery." Alex paused for a moment.

"I know what you're saying, I heard you on Monday. But...I'm having a hard time making myself let Harry go back to his normal life. At least with all of these 'restrictions', as you call them, I know that he's safe. He isn't sneaking off to the bathroom to hurt himself, or disappearing at dinner time to do it. He's 100% safe."

"But Professor Dumbledore, he's also 100% miserable. Listen, I've seen this a lot. The people closest to someone who is self-harming immediately want to crack down on the control. They want to watch them 24/7 and make sure that they're alright. But that makes it worse." Alex sighed and then sat forward. "I've been through this. I have lived it. You have to let Harry do this for himself. He can't want to stop for you or me or his friends. He has to want to stop for him, and as hard as it will be, and as much as it'll pain you to see it, you have to let him make his own decisions and mistakes."

breakbreakbreak

That evening, when Harry was escorted back to the hospital wing by Ron, he was stopped by Madame Pomfrey. "You're to go to Professor Dumbledore's office, Potter." She said.

He looked at Ron and shrugged. "I wonder what he wants. Probably to ask me how my appointment went with Alex or something," he muttered.

Ron followed him to the stone gargoyle, then said good night to Harry and that he'd see him in the morning.

"Come in," Dumbledore said to Harry's knock, and he walked in to find himself amongst Dumbledore, and Snape, of all people. "Good evening, Harry. You're probably wondering why I asked you here. Well, the answer is simple, but may come as a bit of a surprise. I've had a talk Mr. Mullivan, and after he explained some things, I've decided to let things return to normal."

"Return to normal, sir?" Harry asked, thinking he knew what the man meant but not willing to get his hopes up.

"You are allowed to have your freedom back. You can go back to sleeping in Gryffindor Tower and to classes on your own. You can do your homework wherever you please. Normal."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Really? Seriously?" he said excitedly.

"Yes. I realize now that while keeping you under supervision kept you safe, it kept you unhappy, too. I can only hope now that along with talking to Mr. Mullivan that you can continue to be safe on your own. Please try to do so," Dumbledore said kindly, but his voice was a little sad, as if he thought he was sending Harry into uncharted waters.

"I will." Harry said quietly.

"Oh, and I've spoken with both Mr. Mullivan and Madame Pomfrey, and we've decided that Professor Snape will be brewing a special potion for you a few times a week. It's supposed to help with your moods. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday you will have to see him before classes, or after breakfast, on Saturday, to have this potion, in his office. That's my only terms of letting things go back to normal. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, not caring about some potion and having to see Snape even more often. He felt good, happy, about having his freedom back. He just hoped he would be able to use it wisely, the way Dumbledore was requesting that he do.


	13. the questions come easy

**A/N: It feels like it's been ages : ( I hate school. I wish I could stay home all day and read books and watch movies and write fanfic...le sigh. My Utopia. Hahaha. **

**I still don't own Harry Potter.**

**Enjoy =]**

**Oh, and a side note...there's some swearing in this chapter. If that offends, I apologize.**

Harry felt better than he had in weeks, months even. So what if he now had to see Snape personally, three times a week, to take some sort of potion? So what if he hadn't really done much homework since they'd come back to Hogwarts and he was dreadfully behind? So what if, despite what he had told Dumbledore and what he had promised to Ron and Hermione, a part of him still wasn't sure he'd be able to not cut if he felt bad enough? He wasn't going to worry about those things right now, because at least he had his freedom back.

He was on his way up to Gryffindor Tower, to tell Ron the good news, perhaps try to apologize to Hermione one last time, and sleep in his comfortable four-poster again, when he ran into Professor McGonagall in an empty, seldom-used corridor.

"Potter!" she said, walking over to him, a look of surprise on her face. "What are you doing? Why aren't you in the hospital wing, and why are you alone?" Her eyes immediately flicked down and looked at his wrists, but he was still wearing his uniform and his sleeves were down. He was instantly filled with annoyance at this, wondering if there would ever be a time, somewhere in the future, that people didn't automatically assume he had just come from slicing his wrists open.

"I'm allowed to go to Gryffindor Tower. I just talked to Professor Dumbledore, and he said it's okay. And I can go to class on my own, and everything." Harry knew he sounded like a little kid who'd tricked someone into giving him exactly what he wanted, but he didn't care.

"Did he? You aren't lying, are you, Potter?" She asked sternly, wondering why Albus would have made this decision and not informed her, or the rest of the teachers.

"No, I'm not lying," he said stiffly, "you can go ask him if you don't want to believe me. Maybe you'll trust him," he said bitterly.

"Watch it, Potter." She said immediately. "I've half a mind to drag you back to his office to make sure you aren't lying to me."

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said quietly. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged back to Dumbledore's office and give him a reason to change his mind. Somehow within the first 5 minutes of the return of his freedom, he'd managed to get caught down a deserted corridor that hardly anyone ever used, and he'd mouthed off to one of the strictest teachers in the castle...not to mention the head of his house. "Can I please just go to bed? I swear that's what I was doing." He said politely.

Professor McGonagall looked him over and then nodded. "Fine. Go on. But mind your attitude, Potter, I'm not above knocking off points or issuing detentions to students in my own house."

"Yes, Professor." He said, turning and walking quickly down the corridor. He went as fast as he could, ending up in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady five minutes later. Hoping the password was still the same, he choked out, "Dilligrout," and was pleased to see the portrait swing open.

He took a tentative step inside. It was the first time he'd been in the common room in over 2 weeks, and he noticed that, mercifully, the room was fairly empty. There were, however, some fifth and sixth years sitting around, and Ron and Hermione were both sitting in the comfy chairs by the fire doing homework. All the pairs of eyes flicked right to him when he entered the room, and he felt an embarrassing slight blush come onto his face.

"Harry! What are you doing here?" Ron asked, breaking everyone out of the silent 'let's stare at Harry' game they'd all been playing. Grateful for the distraction, he went over and sat in the third armchair, and though he noticed Hermione glaring at him, she didn't get up and leave. She did bury her nose deeper in her textbook and pretend she wasn't listening, but Harry knew her well: she was hanging onto every word.

"I'm, uh...back, now." Harry said with a shrug. He was excited, but he couldn't find the words to describe that everything was going back to normal. Because that was ridiculous, really, to say that everything was 'going back to normal'...nothing would ever be the same again. He knew that for a very long time, if not forever, everyone would look at him and wonder if he was still crazy, or in the process of returning to crazy, or feeling crazy at the moment. He looked at Ron and saw the shock-or was it disbelief?-that had registered on his face; Hermione's eyebrows were raised even though she was still buried in her book, pretending not to listen.

"What do you mean, you're back now?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I mean that Dumbledore let me out of all those...restrictions. You know, I can start living like I'm not one of Azkaban's number one prisoners again." He said.

With a loud, exaggerated sigh, Hermione looked up from her textbook, apparently unable to hold back. "You are _so_ melodramatic sometimes."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Something to say? Nice to know you haven't lost the power of speech."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not as if you were chained to your bed or beaten every night or something. You were just being watched."

"Yeah, you try being 'watched' like that. It sucks. You know, I was going to try to apologize to you-"

"Well, you managed to get out of it, anyways. Now you can go right back to cutting again." Hermione said bluntly. Ron whipped his head around and stared at her, shocked; even Hermione looked a bit shocked at herself.

What she said hurt more than Harry cared to admit. "I'm trying, Hermione. Okay? I guess I can't really say anything else except that. I want to go to bed." Harry stood up and headed towards the dormitory, his good mood gone and replaced yet again with the knowledge that not all would be good.

"Harry, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Hermione called after him, but he heard Ron mutter something and Harry didn't turn back. He was tired of fighting with her, tired of fighting with everyone. He walked up the spiral staircase to his dormitory and pushed the door open quietly. Dean and Seamus were in bed, snoring, and he knew that Neville was still downstairs. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and started to change quickly. He pulled his shirt off and then he stopped and looked down at the scars on his flat stomach. He had never really looked at them before; he knew they were there, had caught brief glimpses of them, but he had always done his best to avoid actively looking at them. He tentatively ran his thumb over the thickest one and he bit his lip. It was weird, feeling this and knowing that he had done it and that if he wanted to...not that he wanted to at that moment...he could do it again. "Fucked up," he muttered.

Suddenly, without warning, Ron burst into the dormitory. "Hey, mate, Hermione's really sorry for what-" Harry jumped and immediately blushed when he saw Ron staring at the scars with a strange expression on his face. It was a strange mixture between shock, disbelief, and Harry thought he saw the faintest trace of disgust across Ron's face. He turned quickly around and pulled his pajama top on and climbed into bed. Neither of the boys said a word, and Harry laid in the darkness, his eyes boring a hole into the ceiling.

He heard Ron change and then get into his own four-poster, and then afterward Neville came up and did the same. A thick silence fell over the room, save for the sounds of the deep breathing of the others in the room who weren't lying awake with their demons. Ron had walked in on him cutting before, and his face hadn't looked like it just had. He had seen the blood and taken the glass away from him; why was seeing the scars on his stomach so much more shocking, and, it seemed, more disgusting to him?

Suddenly, he heard Ron muttering something, and it wasn't his usual muttering in his sleep. "What?" Harry whispered.

"Can't Madam Pomfrey do anything about those?" He mumbled.

Harry paused before answering. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Oh. Okay." Ron said. "Um...sorry about...you know, seeing that."

Harry closed his eyes. "It's fine." He said tightly. Within a few more minutes, Ron was snoring and Harry took a deep breath. He didn't know why it had shocked Ron so much to see his scars but he wasn't going to think on it anymore. In fact...he made himself a promise that things would go back to normal...or as close to normal as they could get. Everything would be great this time around. He knew that everyone, even Alex, probably expected him to make mistakes and slip up, but he wouldn't. Everything would be fine. More than fine, everything would be great.

And for a while, he fooled himself into believing that everything _was_ perfect. He and Hermione apologized to each other, and he and Ron avoided talking about what had happened between them-it was just something that would go unsaid, probably forever. He talked to his teachers and all of them agreed to let him make up the work he'd slacked off on, except for Snape. Those few moments of apparent concern for Harry that Snape had shown when he'd first gotten caught were a thing of the past; he was just as grumpy and condescending now towards him as he had been for the past 6 years.

Harry now saw Snape every other day to take a potion that was supposed to help with his 'moods'. It tasted like a mixture of sweat socks and grass, and every time he drained the goblet, he thought of the irony that the potion designed to make him happier made him miserable when he took it. He and Snape rarely spoke aside from the occasional "good morning", and Harry made a point to just take the potion, thank him, and then leave as quickly as possible. He wasn't actually sure if it was doing any good or if it was making any difference, but he knew that he had to do it.

The days turned quickly into weeks, and things started going by in a monotonous blur. He got up, he took his potion, he went to classes, he met with Alex, he did his homework, he hung out with Ron and Hermione, he went to bed. He kept reminding himself that he had vowed not to let himself slip back to into his old ways...that he had promised himself and everyone around him that things would be okay this time around.

One day in the beginning of February, six weeks later, he was sitting in that so familiar classroom with Alex, not saying anything.

"You're awfully quiet today," Alex said. "Is there something on your mind?"

"No." Harry muttered sullenly, staring at his shoes.

"Okay. Did something happen?"

"_No._" Harry said slowly, annoyed. "Nothing happened."

Alex was trained to notice signs; to see what other people might not, to notice what people were trying to hide from him because they felt embarrassed, or scared, or unhappy. Looking at Harry, he saw that the boy wouldn't look at him or look him in the eye; he had said almost nothing since they'd met 20 minutes ago and he was jiggling his right foot.

"Are you sure? Because I think something did." Alex said gently, and he saw Harry's gaze flick quickly to his arm, and then away again as he stared across the room, out the window. A sinking feeling gnawed in Alex's stomach. "Come on. You're never this quiet."

"Yeah, well, everything's fine. There's nothing to worry about. Maybe I just don't feel like having my head examined today. Maybe I'm sick of all of this and for once I'd like to spend my free period on Wednesdays doing something with my friends instead of sitting in a room with you and talking about my shitty life." Harry said angrily.

"I thought things were going alright." Alex said.

"Yeah, well, I thought so, too. But I guess when you're totally screwed in the head, it can't be alright."

"Why do you say that you're screwed up in the head?" Alex asked, glad that he at least had him talking...if he had him talking, there was a good chance whatever was bothering him deep down would come out.

"It's not normal to feel like this all the time, or to live your whole life miserable! I'm trying really hard to just be _happy_ again but it's not working! When I wake up, I always wonder if I'll be able to ignore the dark stuff going on inside my head that day, and I hate it. I hate it so much." Harry finally looked up at Alex, his head pounding with the effort of not screaming, because he just felt like it.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm sorry you're feeling like this. But do you want to hear my theory? Happiness isn't something you have to work at, or look for...you just have to let go and let yourself be happy. And realize that you deserve it. There's some bad shit out there in this world, and you've dealt with a lot of it...but it's not all bad. There's much more good in it, and it's out there. Harry, when you said you wondered if you'd be able to ignore the dark stuff...have you been cutting again?"

There was a moments pause before Alex saw him nod slightly. "Just once. Last night." Unprompted, he rolled up his sleeve and showed him his wrist, which had a fresh cut on it, not too deep but still very, very present. "Why is this so hard for me?"

Alex knew exactly how he was feeling, because he had gone through the same thing many times. He was probably feeling like a failure, like he was weak and couldn't control his own emotions or actions. He was probably scared. "Harry, it's okay to make mistakes, no one expects you to be perfect-"

"No, don't tell me it's okay, because it's not. I _told_ myself I wasn't going to do this anymore and then for no real reason whatsoever last night, I just did it. I can't even explain why, I just suddenly wanted to more than I've wanted anything in a long time so I did. It's not okay. I'm not okay."

Alex saw the pain in Harry's eyes and wished desperately that there was some way to just wave his wand and make it go away...but everything had limits, including magic. Especially magic. "There's no shame in starting over and doing it right the next time around."

Harry slowly rolled his sleeve down, hiding the glaring evidence of a mistake he had vowed he wouldn't make. Starting over and doing things right sounded very appealing right about now...but if he could slip up once, he could slip up again, and that scared him, a lot.

**A/N: I was feeling dark and twisty tonight and I made poor Harry suffer. : ( Hope you guys liked this chapter. I'm thinking next chapter will be the last one (le gasp, a finished fic!) and will be in the first person from Harry's point of view. **


	14. but the answers don't

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I make no profit from this, etc, etc.**

**A/N: The semester is finally over for 3 glorious weeks, so here's hoping I can finish this fic up during that time! R and R, it's appreciated!**

"So the weather's getting a lot nicer."

"Well it is May. Winter's been over for a little while."

"I know, I'm just saying...nice breeze outside."

Harry laughed. "Are you really talking to me about the weather right now, Alex?"

"Well, I certainly don't see you adding anything to the conversation." They were both quiet for a moment and then Alex said, "You're doing good, Harry?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh, come on, don't be like everybody else. Sometimes I feel like that's all anyone _ever_ asks me."

"It's my job to ask you that, in case you forgot." Alex said with a smile.

He sighed. "Then yes. I am doing good. Really good, actually."

"And you're not-"

"No, I'm not cutting. Not in a while." Harry said quietly. It was true. He hadn't cut since the last time he'd slipped up, back in the beginning of February, but that didn't mean he didn't still loathe the question entirely. He didn't like to be reminded of it because he tried to steer his thoughts away from that as much as he could.

"Good. That's great, actually. I'm really proud of you, I want you to know that." Alex said, offering Harry a smile. "I've got something I'd like to propose and I want you to let me know how you feel about it."

"What?" Harry asked, looking out the window and vaguely wishing that he was outside in the bright sunshine with Ron and Hermione, studying. He had long since grown accustomed to spending his free periods on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays with Alex, however.

"It's been a solid 4 months since you last self-harmed. You're taking your potion with Professor Snape every other day, and it's helping. You're keeping a journal. You've established that you understand the importance of opening up and talking to someone if you're upset instead of hurting yourself. You're doing really well." Alex said.

Harry nodded slowly, biting his lip. "I guess that's all true..." He hated the way Alex had laid it all out on the table. He _had_ done all those things, after all, but he felt uncomfortable for some reason, thinking about all of these changes.

"So what do you think about cutting out one of our sessions during the week? Say, only seeing each other on Mondays and Fridays and dropping Wednesdays?"

Harry stopped, considering. "One less day?"

"Yeah." Alex waited a few moments. Harry didn't say anything, just stared down at his shoes. And then, finally, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, I guess. That'll be good." He said.

Alex narrowed his eyebrows. "Hey. It's just something I wanted to suggest. If you're not comfortable with it, then nothing has to change. I just thought that you'd like the opportunity to kind of...have a bit more freedom."

"It's not that I don't want that..." Harry said slowly, trying to figure out how to put into words just what it was that he wanted.

"You said a few months ago you'd give anything to have some of your free periods back." Alex said.

"Yeah, and a few months ago I was cutting." Harry muttered. "I don't know. I guess I don't want to make all of this progress and then screw it up by messing with the stuff that's worked."

"Well, things _have_ to change sometime, Harry. Nothing can stay the same forever. You won't always be at Hogwarts, you won't always have time for sessions 3 times a week. One day you'll be an adult, married, family of your own, and...life goes on. Things won't be the same." Alex took a deep breath and sat forward, looking at Harry. "The point of this was never to get you into another rut. It was to help you learn ways to deal with what was bothering you so you could take that and move forward. If you don't want to cut out Wednesdays, that's fine. No rush. I know it might seem a bit soon. But I want to give you every opportunity to take if you want to."

"No. No, I want to. It's fine. No more Wednesdays."

"You're absolutely sure?" Alex said.

"Yes. Yeah. It's been four months, I'm fine."

Alex smiled. "Okay, then. Good for you. We'll try it for a while and if you don't like it, we'll go back to the way things used to be. Time's up for today. I'll see you Monday, alright?"

"See you Monday." Harry said, pushing himself up off of the couch and offering a weak smile to him. He grabbed his backpack and left the classroom that had become so familiar to him in the almost six months that he'd been seeing Alex.

The castle was quiet, most of the students outside on their free periods or cooped up in classrooms. Harry looked at his watch and realized that he had 15 minutes until he had to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. He wondered if he had time to go back to the common room, but he probably didn't. He started walking upstairs. He'd be meeting Ron and Hermione outside the classroom as they came in from outside, smelling of the spring breeze and earth, that damp earthy smell that for Harry meant something close to free.

It wasn't that he didn't want his free time back; that was, as Alex had said, something he had missed during their sessions. But he also felt...Merlin, was there a word, or any number of words, for what he was feeling right now? He was nervous that if life started getting back to normal-if he didn't spend all of his time focusing on fighting the urge and the thoughts that made him cut-that he would slip up and end up in exactly the same place he'd been six months ago. He was scared that he was still capable of doing that to himself. But mostly he was annoyed that he was analyzing everything, that his mind wouldn't let anything go. That was the most frustrating change he had made: his inability to just leave something alone.

He sighed, and prepared to wait, but saw that the door to the classroom was ajar. He peeked inside and found Snape sitting at a desk, a quill in his hand as he looked over a stack of papers. He sighed. Usually Snape was right on time or even a few minutes late to class; part of Harry suspected that the man enjoyed making dramatic entrances. He shrugged, and then shoved the door open a little farther and went inside.

Snape looked up with a start when he heard the door open and he gave Harry a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was certainly true that the two would never get along- Harry was just too much like his father for Snape's liking and Snape had been his total enemy for too long-but they'd come to a mutual understanding since Harry had started seeing the old Potions master every other day for his tonic.

Harry sat in his normal seat in the middle of the room and took out his textbook, parchment, quill and ink and waited for class to start. He was paging through the chapter they'd been supposed to read when he heard Snape clear his throat. Harry looked up.

"How's the potion working, Potter?" Snape asked rather quietly and Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Beyond the time he'd asked him how he was doing after being released from the hospital wing, Harry had never known Snape to show him any concern.

"It's working alright, I guess." Harry said slowly. "Uhm...thanks for asking."

"Of course." Snape said stiffly, going back to grading his papers.

break

Severus watched as Potter shuffled through the pages of his text, his glasses sliding low on his nose as he concentrated. He supposed the boy hadn't done his homework, had probably sat around all night in the common room goofing off with Weasley, who was _never_ prepared. He loathed the thought of Potter, of Potter not doing his work, of Potter thinking he was above everyone just like his sainted father had, of Potter having the nerve to sit in front of him and practically snub him by proving that he never did what he was told.

But that was nothing compared to the images in his head of Potter hurting himself, the blood, the look on the boy's face when he realized that he'd been caught. Every time he tried to go back to loathing Harry Potter, the way he had for many years, he found that he just _couldn't_ anymore. Every time he went to yell at the boy for those things that he'd always done that had always infuriated him, he saw Lily Evans' face, and remembered the kick in the gut he'd felt when he found Potter, both times. Lily's son, hurting himself, the potential to kill himself present every single time.

But these past few months had changed things. The light had come back into Potter's face, and even Severus had noticed it. The boy had stopped staring off into nothing during class, and was paying attention. He was eating again. When he came to take his potion in the morning, he looked Severus in the eye and thanked him. Severus was among the many who still tried to subtly check Potter's wrists whenever he was around, but he never saw anything. It was possible that he was still hurting himself, but he doubted it. And even though he still held a grudge against the boy...Severus was glad that he was doing better.

He watched as students began to file into his classroom. Granger and Weasley sat down next to Potter, and the three began talking about something intently, their heads bent together, and Severus was reminded of the three when they were in their first year. They'd all changed quite a bit. He pushed the memory of the three as 11 year olds out of his mind. It did no good to dwell on the past, thinking of the fact that no one could have seen the changes in any of them, most of all Potter, coming. He stood up from his desk and cleared his throat; the class looked up at him with a bit of hesitation. "I trust you've all read the chapter I assigned...and if you haven't, you're in a lot of trouble, as I've prepared a pop quiz." The class groaned, and he saw Potter throw him a glare and then slam his book shut. _Maybe my feelings for Potter haven't entirely changed_, he thought with a wry smile as he collected the exams and began to pass them out.

**A/N: Okay, so it's a little short, and I was wrong...I couldn't finish it up in one chapter. Just wanted to give you guys a quick update since it's been so long.**


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I make no profit from this story. All characters, etc belong to JK Rowling.

A/N: Wow, it has been a very, very long time. Over a year. Due to things in my personal life, I have sort of fallen out of the Harry Potter fandom. I do miss it, but I spend a lot less time writing fanfic and a lot more time interacting with people, being with my friends, living life. I've also been working a lot more, much more than I'm used to, in fact. I can't really say I regret leaving, but, like I said, I do miss it. I've especially been missing this story. I wrote this story at a difficult time in my own life and in some odd ways, it really helped me worked through my own problems. So I've decided to finish this story up, for however long it takes, and potentially write that sequel I was working on. Here's hoping I still have some people left who want to listen to what I have to say!

Oh, and there's some swearing in this. Apologies.

**break**

_He holds the blade in between his fingers and twists it around. _

_It can't hurt, really. Just once. No one would know. Maybe on his leg, or his belly, or on the top of his arm. Somewhere where no one could see. No one's checking him anymore; he doesn't see Alex again until Friday and by then he'll be over it. Alex will never be able to suspect._

_But it's been so long. It's been five months. Does he really want to throw all of that away? And term's going to end soon, and then he'll have the whole summer ahead of him. The only person he'll be accountable to is himself. He doesn't want to start it off like this._

_But still. He wants this. He wants it so bad. He wants to press that blade to his skin and see that line of blood bubble up and run down. It'll hurt. But he wants to hurt. Why does he want to hurt himself so bad? He's not the one who has caused death, pain, devastation and destruction everywhere. That's Voldemort._

_So why has he convinced himself that he deserves this pain? Convinced himself that he needs it? _

_He could go downstairs and talk to Ron and Hermione. He could write in his journal. He could go for a walk. He could study for class, or read a book. Hell, there's a blade in his hand; he could probably convince Professor Dumbledore to firecall Alex and see if he was available to talk. There were grounds for it. If six months of therapy had taught him anything, it was that he had other options. _

_But nothing has ever looked so appealing as the razor blade between his fingers._

Break

When Ron came upstairs later, he found Harry sitting next to his own four-poster bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head in his hands. "Harry? What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked, sitting next to him. He was slightly shocked to find him sitting on the floor. With the beautiful weather and his day off from therapy now, Ron had assumed he'd be outside taking advantage of it, practicing for Quidditch or studying with him and Hermione.

Harry knew he could lie. In fact, he knew he probably should have lied. But instead... "No, I'm not okay," he said, dropping the blade on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

Ron picked it up and stared at it, once again mystified by the complexities that this simple piece of metal had brought to his best friend's life. This tiny sharp object represented...hate, and fear, and pain. Ron went over to the open window across the room and threw the blade out, knowing that this was just one sharp thing in a world full of sharp things. It was just one thing that Harry could use to hurt himself, and there were plenty more. If the past few months had taught him anything about being a friend, it was that he couldn't fix Harry. If Harry was going to hurt himself, he was going to find a way to do it, whether Ron wanted that or not.

But still...he couldn't stop Harry from hurting, or from hurting himself, but he could do that small thing. He could get rid of that one small thing.

After he had tossed the blade, he went downstairs to find his best friend.

**Break**

Harry woke with a jolt, on edge and uneasy. He looked around, and realized he was in the hospital wing. Why was he in the hospital wing? What on earth had he done now?

As he was laying there, Madame Pomfrey came bustling over to him.

"Good, you're awake!" she said, waving her wand over him and performing a few simple spells to find out his temperature and other things. "How are you feeling?"

"What happened?" Harry asked. "How long have I been asleep? Why am I here?"

Madame Pomfrey's face paled slightly. "Harry, dear...what's the last thing you remember?"

Harry thought for a moment. He remembered going to Professor Dumbledore's office...he remembered everything in that terrible cave, giving Dumbledore the potion and watching him in pain, and the Inferi...and suddenly, it all came flooding back. Apparating with poor Professor Dumbledore back to the castle, and seeing all the Death Eaters. Watching from below as they all flooded the tower and that cold look in Snape's eyes just before he...before he...

Dumbledore was gone.

You could put it any way you wanted to...gone, lost, dead. It all meant the same. Harry would never see or talk to Dumbledore again. He'd never hear his words of encouragement or wisdom ever again. He'd never know all that Dumbledore had to share with him. He was gone, an unfinished sentence. He'd never be back.

And he, Harry, had watched it happen. He'd stood, immobilized, in fear, as that cowardly bastard, Snape, had raised his wand and ended Dumbledore's life. There was nothing he could do or say that would erase that moment, He'd tried, in vain, to get Snape back, but it hadn't worked. Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters were gone, and they'd gotten what they had wanted for so long—Dumbledore's death.

Harry felt his body go limp, and he leaned back against the pillow. He felt a lump rise in his throat, and he desperately tried to push it back down. "Merlin..." he murmured, and he saw tears jump into Madame Pomfrey's eyes.

"Poor child..." she said quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder before bustling away quickly to get him a glass of water.

"Are you okay?" Madame Pomfrey asked, handing him the glass and watching him take a long drink.

He nodded, and watched as she walked away again. To be honest, he wasn't okay. But he had a feeling he would be saying that he was for a very, very long time.

**BREAK**

The next few days went by in a blur. Harry didn't speak much; in fact, he rarely spoke at all. He told everyone he was doing fine, but in reality, he hadn't felt this badly since Sirius had died. Ron and Hermione were concerned, and spent a lot of time hovering around him. All he wanted to do was be alone.

The tipping point, however, was Dumbledore's funeral. He put on his dress robes, like everyone else did. He went downstairs and out the front doors of the castle, tromping across the lawn like everyone else did. As he neared the area where Dumbledore's body was in the casket, he froze. His breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in four days, he felt something. He felt pain, coming over him in waves, and suddenly he knew what he wanted.

All he wanted to do, in the entire world, was cut. He wanted the sweet release that he knew it would bring. He didn't want to talk to his friends, or to Alex (whom he had seen briefly after Dumbledore's death, but who had been unable to get him to speak about anything). He didn't want to journal, or read a book, or go for a run. He wanted a razor blade and he wanted it right then.

Ron and Hermione were right next to him, though, and everyone was staring at him, mostly with tears in their eyes, knowing this was THE Harry Potter, and he couldn't just bolt. He owed it to Dumbledore to see this through, but after...

_I'm sorry, sir, but there's no guarantees what will happen after._

The ceremony was long, longer than he had hoped, because there were just so many people there who had been inspired by Albus Dumbledore and had something to say. It started physically hurting Harry, sitting there and listening to people speaking over and over to Dumbledore's greatness. Couple that with Hermione's quiet sniffling, Ron's blank face and Hagrid's steady wailing, and Harry was ready to be done. At the end of the service, he stood up immediately, mumbled something under his breath about having to go to the bathroom, and, not caring how it looked, he bolted.

"Harry!" he heard his name being called, and when he stopped and looked, it was Alex. He considered continuing to run, but he knew his Mind Healer was just crazy enough himself to run after him.

"How are you holding up?" Alex asked, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," Harry said, taking a small step back.

"You don't seem fine, and that's what you've been saying since this all happened. Harry, I know how upset you must be. I really think it would make things much easier if you talked about it. You wouldn't feel so alone," Alex said, offering him a small smile. He felt like he was overstepping his boundaries, but at the same time...this was a boy who was hurting, his patient, and it was too late for him to quietly try to coax Harry out of whatever hole he'd found himself in. He needed help now.

"I am fine, I swear. What I really need is for everyone to just leave me the hell alone. I want you to go away, I want Ron and Hermione to back off and I just. Want. To. be. Alone," Harry said angrily. "I'm done with this. This whole...therapy thing, it's been great while it lasted, but guess what? I don't need it anymore! I'm all better. I'm all fixed." He threw his arms up in the air. "Better yet, I'm not fixed. I'm screwed up in the head and I've messed everything up and I just...I'm done. I don't want to pretend that this whole therapy things work anymore. Because guess what...it didn't. It doesn't. See you."

Alex watched as Harry walked away, wondering if he ought to go after him. It wouldn't do any good to chase after him, though, and he had a feeling that Harry just needed to calm down. In a few days he'd owl him, or Firecall, and see if he was feeling up to a session. In the meantime, he would just let him be.

After Harry stormed away, he took the stairs quickly up to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was deserted, with nearly everyone gone downstairs at the funeral. He knew they'd all be filing back quickly though, so he hurried. Once he was upstairs in his room, he reached underneath his mattress and pulled out one of the razors he'd stashed there a while back. He hadn't touched it in months, and it was such a cliched place to hide it, but no one had ever found it. He rolled up his sleeve and touched the point to his skin, marveling at how simple that one sharp prick could align his senses. With reckless abandon, he pushed down and dragged.

His breath caught yet again, marveling at how much this hurt. And then there was blood. So, so much blood. More blood than there'd been in ages, since that time he'd almost died. He put the blade to his wrist and dragged again, just as hard.

And then again. And again.

He wouldn't mess this up. It was very simple, really. He had little left to live for, and he was just plain done trying. It was time to say goodbye, and this was his only way out.

He was starting to feel woozy, and his vision was starting to cloud. He was about to pass out again, he could tell, and he tried to take deep breaths. The last thing he heard was Ron's voice, saying his name over and over, and he tried to make him go away. He wanted to be left alone; this was the natural progression of things for him. But then everything went black.

– – – – – –


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I still don't own anything remotely close to Harry Potter...and never will!**

**Wow. Well, like last time, it's been over a year. And, like last time, the only excuses I can make revolve around the busy-ness of everyday life. School was crazy, work's been even crazier, and even though I shouldn't, I kind of stopped writing. In between there, my laptop died, forcing me to go computer-less for a while. Well, I just got a new one and my first thought was, "wow, I really, really want to write again." I didn't know where to begin, but I remembered that this story hadn't got any lovin' from me in a very long time, so here we are. Thank you so much to the people who continued to support this story during my long hiatus, and who continue to support me. You make the difference! :]**

**Oh, one last thought. I took this chapter in a different direction, because as soon as I started writing the way I used to, it felt flat and one-dimensional and just wasn't meshing for me. So, please bare with me.**

Break-

_28 May 1997_

The first thought I had when I woke up was that I wish I'd written a note. For Ron and Hermione's sake, if for no one else's. My year long battle with myself had been so incredibly hard, and I didn't want anyone to think that I'd given up after the first round. I wanted people to know that I'd been KO'd after getting back up a thousand times in the face of the hardest things I'd ever experienced, and that I had really tried my best. Maybe not all the time, but I had tried my best a lot of the time, and shouldn't that count for something?

So I wished I had written a note, and then I wondered where I was. My eyes were closed, and I could hear faint talking and beeping. Was this some sort of weird afterlife? I opened my eyes slowly, the light like a piercing glare, and realized that I was in St. Mungo's. I wasn't dead. My wrist was bound in thick bandages and an IV dripped, dripped, dripped something in from my arm. I felt nothing. An overwhelming numbness. I wasn't angry, or sad, or even scared. I was nothing besides slightly tired, which was weird considering I didn't know how long I'd been out. As I was considering calling for someone, a Medi-witch bustled in.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're up! Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," she said with a bright smile, waving her wand over my body and recording my vitals on a chart attached to my bed.

"How long have I been here?" I croaked out, accepting the glass of water the Mediwitch handed me and draining it quickly.

"Oh, almost two full days. The Healer in charge of your case put you on a pretty strong sleeping draught. He wanted to give your body some rest after...everything you've been through." She still had that fixed, beaming smile on her face, and I wondered vaguely if she ever stopped smiling. Maybe she went to bed wearing a huge, plastic grin and scaring the life out of her husband, if she had one, and her kids, supposing she had those as well.

"How did I get here? And how long will I be here for?" I asked her, and she quickly busied herself with something else.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Potter. I'm sorry. I'm going to let your attending Healer know that you're awake and he will come by and see you later today. Okay?"

I mean...no, it wasn't okay. But what could I say to her?

And when that Healer came by? All he did was tell me that I would be in the Mind Healing floor of St. Mungo's for an as yet undetermined amount of time, because they had had a hard time controlling the bleeding and blah blah blah. He hoped I would be able to leave in three or four days, because, oh, yeah, Wizards who had tried to kill themselves had to stay in St. Mungo's for a period of at least three days. And was I seeing a Mind Healer of my own?

I gave him Alex's name and was told they'd contact him to come see me. Was that what I wanted? Sure. My real question was whether or not Alex would show up. I'd been kind of a jerk to him last time I'd seen him, and insisted that all of our time together, all of our sessions, all of the help he'd given me, had meant nothing. That it hadn't really helped me at all. Which had, of course, all been a lie.

The truth is that my sessions with Alex helped me more than I'd probably ever admit to anyone. I knew that whatever happened, I had those sessions to fall back on, to help me. Alex helped me figure out that there was more to my life and more to live for, as cheesy and over the top as that might sound. He helped me figure out...how to figure it all out. And I'd yelled at him and treated him like crap and told him he hadn't helped me. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd dropped me.

And so while I waited and wondered if Alex would show up, I met with a St. Mungo's mind Healer. I half expected this person to be competent, because Alex worked here, too, but all he wanted to talk about was whether or not I was still feeling suicidal. "What are you feeling _right now_?"

He didn't like it when I told him that _right now_ I was feeling like I could, and maybe should, punch him in the face. He started shuffling his papers around, told me he was ordering a potion that would help "calm my moods" and then said that no, he didn't know when I would be going home and yes, he'd certainly check to see if my personal mind Healer would be coming to see me.

He didn't come back. So I continued to wait. I wondered if Ron and Hermione would show up, and they didn't. I asked the same Mediwitch if anyone had been told about me, and she said she could certainly have a letter flown to someone If that was what I wanted. It wasn't what I wanted.

I didn't know what I wanted, beyond getting out of there. But then the problem became where would I go when I got out of there? School was just about over, but I wouldn't go back there for the rest of the year. I suppose I could always go back to the Dursleys, but then...well, I'd been with them last summer after Sirius died and look how well that had turned out.

And then there was Dumbledore. Every time I thought of him, I was reminded of how I got here. My heart still hurt, everything still ached. I would never speak those words out loud to someone, but it just hurt so badly. It hurt like it had hurt when I lost Sirius, and I didn't want to keep experiencing that pain. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

I was beginning to wonder if the only people I'd ever see again would be Mediwitches and emotionally detached mind Healers, when Alex walked through my door sometime around noon the second day after I'd woken up.

Break-

After Dumbledore's funeral, after Harry had spewed all those things at me, I'd let him run off. I told myself that he needed some time alone to process and that he would be okay. I told myself that I had helped arm him with ways to cope and he couldn't utilize those tools if I kept hovering. And above all, I told myself that he was a big boy and mind Healing sessions were his choice, and it was his choice whether or not he wished to continue.

If he didn't want to, I was going to have to live with that fact, and a part of me would always wonder what had happened and whether he would be okay. It was like that with all of my patients. When they decided, or we decided, that my services were no longer required, they'd be turned loose and for the most part, our contact would be severed. I usually wondered how they were doing, but with Harry, it felt different.

Was it because he was famous? Maybe. But I also think a huge part of it is because he really does remind me of myself when I was around his age. The same struggles, the same demeanor, the same way of shoving that pain down until it was built up so much that you were liable to...

But anyways. I watched him run away and told myself I'd check on him in a few days. Send him an owl, schedule a session. Firecall him. Something to let him know that I was still there, that I wasn't going anywhere, I wasn't going to abandon him. So I went home to my apartment, took a long, hot shower and climbed into bed and fell asleep. The truth is that I hadn't been sleeping all that well lately, and when I got back from the funeral, for some reason I just fell into this ridiculously deep sleep, and I was out for about 12 hours.

When I came to, it was only because my owl, Percius, was pecking at my hand demanding to be fed. I poured some food and water into his bowls and checked to see what he had brought me. There was an envelope from St. Mungo's in it, most likely with some case I needed to consult on, and I wondered why they hadn't saved it for when I came in for my rounds later. I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

_Your patient, Harry Potter, has been admitted for a suicide attempt. Please be advised that you will be needed for additional Healing services when and If they are needed; please have your Floo on and available for Firecalls. Thank you. _

The note was signed from my boss, the head attending MediWizard of the department of Mind Healing.

Harry. I pictured him walking away, running away, and trying to kill himself. Maybe it was a misunderstanding; maybe it was like the time that Snape had found him, bleeding in the hallway. Maybe he was just trying to cut and he'd gone too deep again.

There was only one way to find out.

But I wasn't sure if I was quite ready to face it.

**A/N: So, this was just a small update. It took a while to get things going when I was writing this, and I'm definitely feeling like this story has reached the end of its line. Just trying to figure out how I wanna end it! Thanks for reading.**


End file.
